Red Fish, Blue Fish
by lone astronomer
Summary: CH12 POSTED! The star witness in a ten million dollar fraud case goes AWOL from Witness Protection. Three months later, a body turns up at a construction site wearing her clothes. Contains Season 2 spoilers
1. Chapter 1

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Disclaimer: "Bones," and all associated characters, situations, and locations are copyright by Fox and Kathy Reichs. I make no profit from this fan-fiction and no copyright infringement is intended. The title obviously comes from a Dr. Seuss book, which I did not write.

Author's Note: The title, while borrowing shamelessly from Dr. Seuss, whom I also do not own nor do I claim to be, is in reference to the phrase "red herring". But you probably knew that already.

This story has been beta-read by ani8 (livejournal), and for that she has my eternal gratitude!

Finally, please review. It helps me to improve the story, and keeps me from abandoning it like a bad parent.

**Chapter One**

Graham Cavers backed the Bobcat into position, careful not to spill his Tim Hortons coffee as the treads rolled over the curb. It was a cold October morning, but with any luck the construction job would be finished before winter really set in, and one of the last steps to that end was to get this load of dirt trucked out of the way. Carefully, he set the coffee cup on the floor, and then reached for the shovel controls.

There was something soothing about the way the Bobcat responded to his commands, the heavy thrum and the smells of earth and gasoline. Graham was so intent, so in-tune with his vehicle, that he almost didn't notice one of the construction guys screaming at him to stop.

Frowning, he climbed down from the cab, snatching his drink as he went. "What's going on, Joe?"

Joe, under his bright yellow hard-hat, had gone completely white. He merely pointed at the shovel.

Graham's gaze followed his finger and he spat hot coffee over the side of the backhoe. Hanging from the side of the bucket was a desiccated human arm.

**SEGUE**

Leaning over the body of a 3,000 year-old mummy, Temperance Brennan pointed out barely-there details of bone and tissue development, noting everything from dominant hand to minuscule fractures sustained while it had still been alive.

"Based on the development of the humerus and the damage to the glenohumeral joint, this man was an agricultural labourer. Mummified abnormal tissue build-up suggests he may have suffered from adhesive capsulitis. You can see by the curvature of the spinal column that he spent much of his time bent over-"

"Can I talk now?"

Caught off-guard by the sudden interruption, Zach jumped. "Agent Booth! Do we have a case?"

Booth took the last three steps up in one. "No," he said patiently, indicating himself and Brennan, "_we_ have a case. _You_ have an old dead guy."

Bones rolled her eyes at him. "_We_ have a case," she repeated, including Zach this time, "or _you_ have a case."

("It's a mummy," Zach said petulantly, under his breath.)

"So?" she asked when Booth noticed his expression mirrored Zach's and wiped it from his face. "Who is it?"

Secretly, this was Booth's favourite part of the game. He pretended he didn't need her help, she pretended she would withhold her help, and in the end everyone's curiosity overcame their stubborn nature and the real work began. Today, he had a little extra hook. "Can't talk about it out here. It's full of all kinds of sensitive information. Can we get a conference room?"

_Booth 1, Squints 0_. One look from Brennan had Zach scrambling to round up the rest of the squint squad, beginning; he couldn't help but notice, with Angela, and finishing with Cam.

"You've got him well-trained," he observed, turning back to his partner.

"Zach is an incredibly gifted and competent student," she answered, deadpan. Booth was just about to sigh and shake his head when she added, "_And_ an excellent judge of character. Come on, Booth, let's see what you've got."

He barely had time to wonder if he should be offended – for his own sake or for Cam's – but it was enough to make him flinch inwardly. After the first case they had worked on together, he had thought that maybe Cam and Bones could learn to get along, maybe even be friends, although he wasn't idealistic enough to believe they'd ever be close. But things between them had clearly deteriorated again, and he didn't hold out much hope for a friendship. Worse, he still hadn't told Bones that he and Cam were seeing each other, and as people-savvy as she wasn't, Temperance Brennan was not stupid; she would not be in the dark forever. When she _did_ find out what he'd been keeping from her, she would undoubtedly see it as a personal betrayal, and _that_ would set their friendship back months, if he were lucky.

Temperance Brennan's trust was not something to be taken – or broken – lightly.

Sighing quietly, Booth snagged his case file and dragged himself into the conference room with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. It was only ten o'clock in the morning, but he was suddenly very, very tired.

The case didn't make it any easier. He passed around a photo of the body, mostly decomposed with a few scraps of clothing remaining. "This is the body of Karen Adams," he said, and then held up a photograph taken of the girl a few months before she'd gone missing. "We think, anyway."

"You think?" Brennan frowned. "You haven't checked dental records yet?"

"And that's the problem." Booth sat one cheek on the edge of the conference table, ignoring the half-strength glare Cam sent his way. "We can't check dental records. Karen Adams was put under witness protection four months ago – we can't risk accessing any of her files in case someone is watching _us._"

Cam frowned, pushing the girl's picture away. "Shouldn't the FBI have secured that information when she was put under federal protection?"

"_Should have_ being the operative words. Someone lost their job for that oversight, believe me." Booth had been in the room when Cullen had chewed the guy out; he wouldn't have wanted to be a fly on _that_ wall. "This is where you come in. Once we have a positive ID on the body, we can go ahead and start looking for a suspect."

Auburn head bent low over the image of the remains, Brennan asked, "Has foul play been established?"

Wasn't she listening to anything he was saying? "Karen Adams was placed under witness protection because she's a key witness in a federal fraud and tax evasion case worth literally millions of dollars. She vanished from witness protection at the beginning of September, just two months before the preliminary hearing. I don't know about you, but that sounds suspicious to me."

"You think her protection was compromised?"

"It happens." Booth didn't bother disguising the bitterness in his voice. "Some hotshot takes an hour off and heads to a bar, gets it into his head he'll be a hit with the ladies if he flashes his badge around. It's not unheard of."

"You obviously need more female FBI agents," Angela observed, rolling her eyes.

Zach snickered quietly, earning a glare from Angela and Brennan both. "What? Agent Booth, don't you find it ironic that it's _Angela_ implying that women are less susceptible to their bodies' biological imperatives?"

Once Booth had translated that into plain English, it _was _pretty funny. Even Brennan was smiling.

Hodgins snatched up the photograph and eyed it, impressed. "Man, why go to the bank when you're guarding the vault?"

Right, that was far enough off-topic. Booth sent Hodgins a glare that went unacknowledged. "People, can we focus on the case for two minutes, please?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Angela, do you think that skull could match the girl in the picture?"

It was a lot to ask for, and he knew it, but the remains wouldn't be here for another twenty-four hours; it had to be brought in from Canada and the sort of paperwork that went with this kind of thing always took ages.

The artist compared the two photographs, shaking her head. "Sure, they look like they _could_ be from the same girl. They have the same general facial shape..." She shrugged. "I won't know for sure until we have the body here in the lab. Sorry."

Well, it had been worth a shot, anyway. Booth pulled out a chair and sat, leaning his elbows on the table. "Okay, then. Since we have some time before the body gets here, this is what we know about the case." He drew a handful more pictures and writs from the folder. "This is Daniel Klagenfurt, CEO of ComTech Industries." He passed the paperwork to Cam. "They're under investigation for defrauding the government of more than ten million dollars."

"Chump change," Hodgins dismissed with a wave of his hand.

Zach sent Booth a commiserating look. There was no question about it; things were bad if he was starting to identify with the kid.

Cam was clearly less than a hair's breadth away from hitting Jack over the head with whatever happened to be closest – in this instance, probably Zach. "Can we continue?"

"This is Karen's boyfriend, Brad Callum. _Also_ under witness protection – this time because ComTech's trying to pin the scam on him. We're not sure of the extent of his involvement; he's been working for ComTech for the last year and a half as an industrial engineer."

Bones frowned. "You think he's a suspect? But I thought you said he was in protective custody."

Booth rubbed his forehead. Sometimes he just _hated_ Michigan. "He is. But so was Karen, and she's gone, probably dead. So nobody can be ruled out."

"You always think it's the boyfriend."

"And I'm usually right!" Brennan had always been a little sensitive on this particular topic, since to be more specific; he usually thought it was _her _boyfriend. There were probably reasons for that, psychologically speaking, but even Booth didn't want to analyse those. "I'm going to head back to the Bureau. Let me know when the remains arrive."

He had made it to the door and was so sure he was home free when he heard Cam's voice behind him. "Seeley!"

Swearing to himself, Booth took a second to attempt to wipe the frustration from his face. "What's up?"

She gave him a too-warm smile. He tried to ignore the fact that it didn't affect him in the slightest. "Dinner at my place? I'm doing oysters."

_I'll bet you are._ "Ah, I can't," he excused, relieved even though the physical release would be welcome. "I've got Parker for the night – swimming lessons and then Cartoon Network. Maybe Friday?"

"Sure," Cam agreed. He could tell she wasn't entirely happy with this outcome, but she was trying her best to disguise that. "It's a date."

He made a face as soon as his back was turned, barely resisting the urge to bang his head against the glass door. Cam was nice. He'd _liked_ her, back in the day, and he still... appreciated her company. But he hated speaking to her here, in the lab – in Bones' domain. It felt suspiciously like betrayal, which didn't make sense. After all, he'd known Cam longer.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. All of that could wait – for now, he was going to concentrate on making the most of his time with his son. Smiling, Booth stepped out into the sunshine.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: As in chapter one, I still don't own "Bones." I'm still not making any money and I still don't intend any copyright infringement.

Author's Note: I apologize in advance for the excessive exclamation marks. Those five-year-olds (?) are such trouble.

Thanks as always to ani8 (livejournal) for the beta, and to everyone who reviewed.

P.S. I promise the thing with Chuckie Cheese's is going to be at least pseudo-relevant.

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

**Chapter Two**

"Daddy!"

"Hey, bud!" Booth smiled, leaning down to scoop up his son in a sort of flying bear-hug that he'd soon be too heavy for. "Got your stuff?"

Parker nodded enthusiastically as Booth set him down, quickly picking up the backpack that was about twice the size of him. "Mom packed my SpongeBob DVD!"

Booth tried, he really did, but he couldn't quite keep the grimace from his face. Luckily, Parker didn't notice; Rebecca did, though. "I know how you like to spread the pain," she joked. "Seriously though, Seeley, thank you for taking him tonight. I have a mountain of work to do."

"It's no problem," he said, smiling in spite of the imminent subjection of his mind to the terrors of children's television. "You know I love having him. Do you need me to pick him up from school tomorrow?"

She shook her head. "I should have this finished tonight, so I can get him."

"Right." Booth squirmed, just a little. "Well, if you change your mind - "

"I'll call you," she promised, then bent down to give Parker a hug. "Be good for daddy, okay, sweetie?"

"Yuck! Mom!" Parker protested as she placed a kiss on his cheek. He made a thorough attempt at rubbing it off.

Rebecca made a face right back at him. Clearly, she was unfazed by this sudden "girls have cooties!" attitude. Booth wondered how much of it he'd missed. "Bye, honey! Bye, Seeley!"

"Bye, Mom!" Parker waved, and then the two of them were heading across the street to the SUV.

**SEGUE**

By the time the lifeguard blew the whistle, Booth already had a pounding head from the smell of the pool's chlorine. As the junior swimmers – the group was called "frogs" or something – climbed out of the water, he stood up and grinned. Parker swam like a fish, in Booth's biased opinion, out swimming all of the other kids in his class.

"Okay, Tadpoles!" the impossibly young instructor called, brushing her chlorine-bleached hair back from her face. "No running on the pool deck, and I'll see you next week!"

Parker waddled over, dripping wet and grinning widely. "Daddy, did you see me jump in?"

"I sure did, buddy!" Booth swooped in and wrapped his son in the towel, then flipped him upside down for good measure.

"Dad!"

"You'll dry faster this way!"

Parker shook his head vigorously, sending stray water droplets all over. Booth looked down at himself and realized he'd managed to get completely soaking wet.

Oh well. "That oughtta do it," he decided, and turned him the right way up again. "So what do you want for dinner?"

Like he had to ask.

**SEGUE**

"... and then Bobby _kissed Mary-Ann_ behind the swing set!" Parker finished half an hour later in between huge bites of Chuckie Cheese's cheese pizza. "Isn't that gross?"

_God, they just keep getting younger_, thought Booth with a shake of his head. With a start, he realized that one of these days he was going to have to give Parker "The Talk." Well, maybe not. Maybe Rebecca could do it.

Maybe he'd offer on the condition that he could see Parker more often.

"You're right," he said seriously. "Girls have cooties."

"That explains a lot," a voice above his head teased. Booth looked up into the starry eyes of Angela Montenegro.

_Aww... crap._ He was definitely never going to hear the end of that comment. "Angela. What brings you to this fine dining establishment?"

Angela rolled her eyes and gestured over the shoulder. "The boys needed to play with someone their own age." Behind her, two-time almost-doctor Zach Addy and triple-doctor Jack Hodgins were terrorizing a couple of ten-year-olds in the arcade. Actually, make that Jack terrorizing the ten-year-olds and Zach making googly eyes at their mother, which probably amounted to the same thing in the end. She turned her attention to Parker. "I'm Angela. I promise I don't have cooties."

After a nod of encouragement from Dad, Parker stuck out his hand. "I'm Parker. Are you my dad's girlfriend?"

Booth choked on his pizza.

Angela did a much better job retaining her composure, although she did take advantage of the moment to send a saccharine smirk his way. He glowered at her. "No, sweetie, your dad's not that lucky."

"Oh," Parker answered thoughtfully. He spoke around his last, huge bite of pizza. "You must be okay then."

Booth didn't miss the quickly-suppressed smile _or_ the knowing look she sent his way. "What do you think, Parker? Do you want to play some games, or-" he steeled himself- "go home and watch SpongeBob?"

Surprisingly, Parker didn't answer right away – he was too busy trying to hide a huge yawn behind one tiny hand. Apparently swimming really took it out of the kid.

"Maybe just one game," Booth decided. "Race cars?"

Three minutes later the five of them were squashed into the three adjacent racing cubicles. Parker's legs were too short to reach the pedals, so he sat on Booth's knees and grasped the steering wheel seriously in both hands. Angela, Booth was amused to note, had ousted Hodgins from the driver's seat and taken over the controls – not that Jack looked unhappy with the arrangement, since she was essentially sitting in his lap.

Hodgins shot him a thumbs-up sign behind her back. Zach and Booth rolled their eyes in tandem.

"It's starting!" Parker announced loudly, tensing on Booth's knees. "Ready... set... Go!"

He put his foot to the floor, watching the screen carefully as Parker manoeuvred around the course with video-game skills possessed only by children. Zach, he noted, was only trailing them by a couple of inches.

They took a turn too fast and nearly spun out, skidding to the far side of the track in a haze of pixelated dust. "Oh no!" Zach lamented as his racer careened into theirs, the cubicle shaking with the simulated impact. Then Angela flew by them, laughing as she did so.

"Dad! We're getting beaten by a girl!"

"You get used to it," Zach mumbled beside them, managing to get his vehicle oriented properly.

With some prompting from Booth, Parker swerved the car around him and after Angela, nudging the rear of her car right up until the finish line.

They practically tumbled out of the game, Jack looking slightly disappointed now that he'd been deprived of his lap warmer. "Wow," Parker enthused to Angela, "You're really good. Even better than my dad!"

"Hey!"

"You're not too bad yourself," she smiled. "Maybe someday we'll have a rematch."

"Cool," he answered. Then his face was swallowed by a gigantic yawn. "Can we go home now, dad?"

"Guess that's our cue," he told the squints, reaching for Parker's hand. "See you guys tomorrow."

As they walked together towards the SUV, he just overheard Zach say mournfully to Hodgins, "I need to learn how to drive."

**SEGUE**

Booth walked through the doors to the Medico-Legal lab just after eight the next morning. Bones and the rest of the team were already hard at work, it seemed; the new body was spread across the examination table, and everyone was clustered around it.

Everyone except Cam, anyway; most of the tissue was too deteriorated for her to be of much use, he supposed. It seemed that someone – probably Zach – had removed it as best he could. What was left was sitting on another table nearby awaiting further analysis.

Booth breathed a small sigh of relief. He'd had his cell phone switched off the previous night and Cam had left him a few messages that he never bothered returning. He swiped his card and skipped half of the steps on the way up. "Morning, people. What have we got?"

"No confirmed cause of death yet," Brennan answered, turning what Booth was beginning to recognize as the left ulna over in her gloved fingertips. "But if I had to guess, I would say these hairline fractures are probably a good clue."

Peering closely at the bone, Booth thought maybe he could actually see what she was talking about. "Right. And that means...?"

"Hairline fractures like this could be indicative of a struggle or of poor bone density. But in this case, the breaks are the wrong shape. This girl suffered from severe muscular convulsions before her death."

Muscle spasms strong enough to crack bones? "That can happen?"

"In some cases extreme muscle spasms occur at the time of death," Zach put in without looking up from the skull he was cleaning. "They're called cadaveric spasms and can be severe enough to be mistaken for rigor mortis." He paused, swabbing an eye socket. Booth looked away. "That was a yes."

"Who needs the Discovery Channel," Booth muttered. "No ID on the body yet?"

Hodgins ascended the stairs, rolling his eyes. "Well, if we had something to ID the body with..."

"Zach's almost done cleaning the skull," Brennan pointed out. "Then Angela can do a reconstruction."

"Great. I'm going to go into the office, give me a call when you - "

"Agent Booth, you're here early."

_Damn_. She'd caught him again. "Everyone else was here _earlier_," he pointed out. "I think there's some pathological bits left for you, though." He glanced towards the bin full of tissue.

Cam followed his gaze. "And it's not even my birthday. Listen, can I talk to you for a minute?" An ominous pause. "In my office?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Standard disclaimers, as in chapter one, still apply.

Special thanks as always to ani8 (livejournal) for the beta and to everyone who reviewed. Scene change markers have been re-inserted that actually show up on so thank you to Maror for pointing that out!

And now... on to the story.

**Chapter Three**

Booth followed Cam into her office and closed the door behind him. "What's up?"

Her expression was unreadable. "How's Parker?"

_Where is this going_? "He's good," Booth hedged, trying not to frown. "Wore him out with swimming lessons and arcade games." He paused. "Or he wore me out. Either way."

"Good. I'm glad you got to spend some time with him. I know how much he means to you."

Wait, she wasn't mad he'd brushed her off? She didn't want to know why he hadn't returned her phone calls? She wasn't going to chew him out?

Score. "You're not mad?"

Whoops. The words had slipped out before he could get a proper grip on them.

"For what?" She rolled her eyes. "Being a good father? Although I did miss you last night."

The part of Booth that was allergic to sentimentality retched. Aloud he only said, "Oh?"

"I had to eat all those oysters by myself," Cam said. She was making an obvious effort to exude sexuality. "You know what oysters do to me."

Booth did know, intimately. He could vividly remember that night in New York a few years ago. In spite of his reluctance, he could feel his body responding. At the same time, he wanted to recoil. Didn't Cam think this was all sort of weird? She might've been the boss, but the lab was Bones' domain. It was awkward, carrying on an affair right beneath his partner's nose.

It had taken him long enough to get her to trust him in the first place.

"Sorry," he managed at length, sounding sincere enough, and not preoccupied, to his own ears. "We still on for Friday?"

"I cleared my schedule." She touched his tie, straightening it.

Uh oh. That was a bad sign. Cam only played with his clothing when she was going to suggest something she wasn't sure he'd agree to.

"You know, I've been thinking..."

Yep. _Here it comes_, he thought, mentally bracing himself. "Should I be worried?"

She ignored him. "If we're going to see each other, I think we should be upfront about it. I don't want to be that part of your life that you're ashamed of. I want to go out, have dinner. And I want to meet Parker, the next time you have him."

Most of that didn't sound too bad until you translated it from "clever woman" into "something a man would understand."_ I think we should be upfront about it_ translated to the same essential refrain he'd heard from every woman he'd dated for the last two years: "I am intimidated by Temperance Brennan and I want you to tell her to back off." (This was, in Booth's opinion, clearly unnecessary since Bones would never have given him the time of day if they hadn't had to work together.) _I want to go out_ meant dressing him up and showing him off to her friends, as if he didn't already wear a suit to work every day, which was mildly offensive.

But somehow he found her desire to meet Parker most unsavoury of all. Bones would have said that a woman could have no anthropological reason for meeting her partner's offspring from another woman except to gauge the level of competition for his affections. Booth was more worried about the implication that Cam was planning on sticking around for a while, not to mention the fact that he liked to have Parker to himself on the odd occasions when he did get to see him.

"_Are you my dad's girlfriend?"_ Parker's words echoed in his head. He got the feeling that Cam and Parker just wouldn't get along.

"Tell you what," he said at last. "Let me talk to Bones. She'll want to know" _deserves to know_ "first." After all, she was the closest thing he had to a best friend. "She's always lecturing me on anthropological inevitabilities. Then we can tell everyone else."

Cam's eyes narrowed slightly, but her tone was neutral. "That's fair. You've got until Friday."

Being in a relationship – if you could call it that – for less than a month and being handed ultimatums didn't really sit well with Booth, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He smiled briefly, knowing as hard as he tried that it looked insincere. "Friday. Thanks."

Cam didn't seem to mind. Rather, she seemed to have _other_ things on her mind, he noted as she grasped him by his tie and pulled his face down to hers. "Well, now that we have _that_ sorted out -"

Booth wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved when a knock at the door interrupted. He stood up straighter, smoothing his suit, and waited for Cam to do the same. "Come in, Zach."

The door opened. "Dr. Saroyan, Angela is ready to go with the reconstruction. Have you seen Agent B- oh, hello Agent Booth. Never mind."

"Is it her?" Booth wanted to know, following Zach down the hallway.

He shook his head, "I haven't seen it yet. It was rendering as I was on my way over."

They squeezed through the door to Angela's office and stopped simultaneously, squinting up at the simulation of the victim's face. The girl had high, flat cheekbones and a pointed nose and chin. Angela tapped in a command on her keyboard and the photograph of Karen Adams superimposed itself on the image.

"No match," Hodgins pointed out the obvious. Karen's cheekbones were lower and more slanted, and she had a blunt chin.

Booth sighed. No match meant that he had to arrange for the body to be transported back to Canada, to undergo crime-scene processing there. It also meant that they still didn't know where to find Karen Adams, or whether she was still alive, which meant that they were short one star witness in a huge federal tax evasion case. "Does the body match any missing persons reports?"

"I'm running her through the database now," Angela told him, but Booth didn't have much hope for that, either. If there had been an unsolved missing persons case in the area that had matched the body's description, it was very likely that they wouldn't have contacted him, believing it to be Karen Adams'.

The computer beeped a negative – no match here, either. "So we don't know anything about this Jane Doe?"

Bones crossed her arms defensively. "We know she was a young woman, late teens to early twenties, and stood about five foot two – three inches shorter than Karen Adams. She went to the University of Waterloo and she either knew the victim or someone wants us to think she did."

Come to think of it, that was a good deal of information to pull from a corpse and gave them several good leads. "Wait, how do you know?"

"Believe me," Zach said, looking a little paler and more squinty than usual, "You do_ not _want to know what we did to reconstruct the tattoo." He held up a sheet of white paper with a school crest on it. "She had it on her ankle, which was covered by her boot, so the flesh there took longer to decay. Luckily for us."

"Yeah, lucky," Booth agreed. He was glad he hadn't been around for that particular discovery. How long had he and Cam been in her office, anyway? He supposed most of this work had been done already that morning, before he got in. "But how do you know she knew the victim?"

"Angela actually figured it out," Hodgins said, holding up a small silver circlet in an evidence bag.

At Booth's nonplussed expression, Angela explained, "It's the bracelet the victim was wearing when she came in. It's also the bracelet that Karen Adams is wearing in this photograph."

"What, the exact same one?" He was sceptical.

Angela sighed. "It's a personalized charm bracelet. You start out with a basic, blank set of links, and then add in customized links as you go. You can't see all of the charms in the photograph, but the ones that you can see – the polar bear, the music note, the guitar and the Martini glass – show up in the same order in the photograph as they do on the bracelet."

"Mathematically speaking, it either _has_ to be the same one, or it was put together to _look_ like the same one." Bones still had her arms crossed, and she wasn't looking directly at him. He started to wonder if he'd missed something.

"And there's something else." Zach took over the computer and called up two nearly-identical images. "The hair on the left is a sample we recovered from the victim. It had already begun to decompose, but we were able to do some analysis. The victim had brown hair, with no chemical dyes added. The hair on the _right_ was caught in the links of the bracelet. It's almost the same colour, but it _has_ been dyed – we're guessing the source was blonde."

_Like Karen Adams_, Booth guessed. But why wasn't Bones telling him any of this? It was usually her job to brief him on the goings-on in the lab. And even if Zach was less annoying than he used to be, he wasn't sure he was comfortable with this kind of role-reversal.

On the positive side, at least he hadn't requisitioned the body for nothing, although he supposed it would have to go back. "I guess we have a new suspect."


	4. Chapter 4

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

**Chapter Four - No Bones About It**

IN WHICH we discover why Bones is so cold, we have our first Squint Moment, I finally get to drop the Booth POV, and Cam makes a meaningful contribution. **Please note** that I don't like that (or Cam in general) any more than you do, but if she got a job at the Jeffersonian, she's not a dumbass.

PS... I am making a lot of this science shit up. (English major! But I am trying my best to do a reasonable amount of research.)

Disclaimer: As far as I know, I still don't own "Bones" and I am still not making any money. See Chapter One for a more complete disclaimer.

Thanks: to the reviewers, missbrat155 (ffn) and ohocheese, buffyangellvr23, and damnskippytoo (livejournal). You guys keep me writing!

Bigger and better thanks to ani8 (livejournal) for making this more grammatically palatable, and for making time for this even though real life was totally more important.

**B**

_Thirty minutes previously..._

Brennan tossed the Aquafina bottle in the recycling bin and gathered her hair into a ponytail. She had been at work for two hours already, and things were actually getting accomplished. Zach had spotted a possible identifying mark – a partially intact tattoo – and Angela had matched the victim's bracelet to the photograph they had of Karen Adams.

As pleased as she was with their progress on the case, she had to admit that she was less than at ease with her current partnership with Booth. Since that admittedly awkward conversation about his continuing past with Rebecca, things had been uncomfortable between them. She hated admitting that – it seemed that she was not immune to Booth's so-called gut instinct after all. Of course, there were discrepancies between their past friendship and the current state of affairs, but they were unquantifiable and left her confused.

Sighing, she headed to her office. If things didn't improve between them, she would be forced to talk to him about it – something that would be beyond awkward for both of them. She was still sincerely hoping that it wouldn't be necessary.

Brennan pushed the thoughts from her mind with a shake of her head. Worrying about this was needless and counter-productive, likely only to give her a splitting headache.

Unfortunately, her resolution was for naught. As she turned her head back to the hall in front of her, her eye caught on a strange configuration of shadows being cast through Dr. Saroyan's window. Before she could stop herself, she looked up, catching an eyeful of two people rather viciously entangled together. There was enough clothing thrown into the equation to keep her from jumping to conclusions, but her stomach still churned violently.

Looking away, Temperance took three deep breaths and closed the outer blind on the window.

Booth was sleeping with Cam. That was... uncomfortable. And unusual. She didn't understand. Booth had told her that he would go to her if he felt that he was going to slip with Rebecca. Wasn't this the same thing? Cam was a different woman, but rehashing an old relationship had the same negative effects no matter which former partner. Right?

Shaking herself, Temperance walked back to the work area. She could deal with this... whatever it was... later. Right now, they had a body to identify.

**B**

Finally, after an interminably long period of waiting for both Booth and Cam to vacate the room at the same time, Temperance found her voice. She hadn't said anything yet, and already both Angela and Jack were tensing. Evidently they had noticed her hostility. Aware that she was gaping like a particularly stupid goldfish, Brennan sputtered, "Why am I always the last one to know?"

Angela squished up her face in a kind of grimace, and then gave her a sympathetic look. She let out a sigh that sounded like she'd been holding it in for weeks. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Zach knows."

"Knows what?"

The three of them looked up. If there was one thing Brennan hated more than gossip, it was being caught gossiping. Zach stood in the doorway, looking a little like a lost puppy. She realized belatedly that she'd left him out there with Cam by himself and felt even worse.

Jack broke the silence with a characteristically sarcastic quip. "That Booth and Cam have been playing Naked Twister after work every night."

"Why would anyone play Twister naked?" Zach wondered. Then: "Oh. That was a euphemism for intercourse, wasn't it? Never mind."

Sometimes it unnerved her that Zach picked up on metaphorical slang and pop-culture references faster than she did.

Angela was massaging her temples. "Jack, could we please use grown-up talk in the lab?"

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Jack returned to his workstation to finish the analysis on a few more samples he'd taken, and Zach sat down at Angela's computer and opened a new browser window. Angela looked like she might try to dispense some unwanted and unhelpful advice – most likely she would try to convince Brennan that what she was feeling was jealousy, and that at the next available opportunity she should "hop" Booth, or whatever that phrase was.

Temperance was about to make an excuse to leave before Angela could come up with a suitably naughty colloquialism when Zach said, "Dr. Brennan? I think I found her email address."

Thankful for the diversion, Brennan uncrossed her arms. "The victim's? That means we can determine her identity - "

"Not the victim's," he corrected. "Sorry, I should have specified. Karen Adams'. But if we can hack into it, we might be able to find a connection that will lead us to the victim."

Angela hummed thoughtfully for a second. "I have an idea. Do you mind if I try something?"

Brennan left them to it. With any luck, there were still a few things she could glean from the physical evidence. She made her way back to the platform and began reassessing the remains.

The victim had an unusual orthodontic appliance cemented to the backs of her teeth and an old fracture on her right tibia, probably a sports injury. With the right research, the appliance could lead to a practicing orthodontist who would have the girl's record on-file, even if she hadn't been reported missing. But that was a process that could take months, and from the details of the case they just didn't have that kind of time.

More frustrating was the fact that she still hadn't been able to determine cause of death definitively. The hyper-tensed muscles pointed to convulsions, but whether from drowning, poisoning, or prior existing condition she could only guess. Based on the few and relatively minor instances of bone damage, she was confident that she could rule out epilepsy and any other kind of naturally occurring seizure, but if this was a poisoning case, the place to begin looking was the tissue – and there wasn't much of that left.

It was frustrating. Brennan began to hypothesize that she would have to take a trip to the actual crime scene.

"Found something!" Cam called from below.

Temperance stifled her annoyance and tried to nurture her curiosity, but only succeeded to a point. This was ridiculous. She had no reason to dislike Cam – the woman had been promoted over her head, yes, and been less than understanding on the first few cases they'd worked together, and generally disrupted the normal day-to-day goings-on in the lab – but she wasn't actively _trying_ to be infuriating. Was she?

Within moments, they had assembled around Cam's workstation. "What've we got?"

Brennan tried not to tense at Booth's voice.

"Cause of death," Cam said, holding up a small phial filled with some kind of viscous fluid.

"Poison?" Angela guessed.

"Strychnine," Cam confirmed. "Ingested – more than enough to kill her."

Brennan, Hodgins, and Zach all recoiled, and even Booth looked uncomfortable. Strychnine was a particularly nasty poison, causing seizures and muscle contractions so severe that eventually the part of the brain that controlled breathing would become paralyzed and the victim would asphyxiate – but not before all of his muscles went so rigid that the effects were often mistaken for rigor mortis.

"That's not an assassination," Booth frowned. "Guns, bombs, stabbings – _those_ are assassinations. Poison is a personal murder. The killer knew the victim."

"Or he knew Karen, and this girl got the poisoned chalice," Zach chimed in. Angela held up a freshly-printed picture. "I found Karen Adams' email address after some searching online. So far I haven't been able to crack her password, but Angela ran it past a number of web journals and found Karen's."

Angela explained, "She hasn't posted on it since she disappeared, but one of the older posts was a series of photographs from her birthday. The entry gave her a name and a face – Allison, although apparently Karen wasn't so naïve as to publicly post her friend's last name."

Booth took the photograph from her. "They look close."

"Neighbours, according to the journal. So if you have a couple of previous addresses for Karen we might actually be able to find a full name."

Temperance's irritation with Cam for finding the cause of death that she had not was quickly replaced with a certain amount of smug pride that she had been upstaged by Zach and Angela. Booth was already taking in the new information, flipping through his case-file and handing over the relevant pages.

"If you give me another few minutes, I can establish time of death," Hodgins commandeered the computer and brought up a weather site. "There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the composition of the dirt that came in on the body. But if you know what to look for..." He handed Brennan a still from the microscope.

"It's been oxidized?"

Jack nodded. "This means she was probably buried during a lightning storm. We just go back to the approximate time of death and check the records for when Windsor reported an electrical storm and..."

The computer beeped. Temperance looked over his shoulder. "July 30th."

Booth nodded grimly. "The same day Karen Adams disappeared."

**B**

Ok, so I gotta ask: What is up with you guys? Are you not reading this anymore? Are you just sick of Cam? You have to let me know, because otherwise, um, how am I supposed to know? Right?


	5. Chapter 5

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Disclaimer: I still don't own "Bones," I'm still not making any money, I still covet David Boreanaz. I think that covers everything.

Notes: Well, the people have spoken. Here is chapter five – sorry it's a bit late (two minutes past twelve! darn!); I was writing an essay at the last minute like a bad girl. Give me until chapter six to deal with you-know-who – I promise you it'll be worth it.

To Dawn92, luna, Audrey, BB-Jate-MiSA, Laura Dugan, Paige Turner ME, Alphie13, omg, Questionablelight, Bella-mi-amore, melisMLC, Howdylynn, and Stace: thank you all so much for responding last chapter, it was quite a relief to hear that this story wasn't unappreciated. If you keep it up, so will I! (Well, I will _anyway_, but, you know, reviews make me happy.)

As always, extra-special thanks to ani8 on LJ for beta-reading.

**Chapter Five**

"Dr. Brennan?"

She looked up from the computer, pausing Google Earth as the Ambassador Bridge drifted onto the screen. "What is it?"

In the doorway, Zach made a face that indicated a certain level of discomfort. Brennan felt for him; she knew he'd had a difficult time lately with homesickness and trying to pin down a topic for his graduate thesis. "Can I hide in here for a while? Jack and Angela are flirting and Dr. Saroyan..."

..._Dr. Saroyan and Booth are flirting_, her mind supplied illogically. She knew Booth was gone for the day; she'd watched him leave herself.

She smiled at Zach, surprised that she didn't want to turn him away. In fact, she appreciated his company; it was a welcome distraction. It appeared that her "people skills" were improving. "Close the door. Did you bring something to do, or do you want to copy-edit my paperwork?"

Zach made another face. "I brought my own, if that's okay."

"Sure, have a seat." She went back to the zoom function, finally pinpointing the mound of dirt the body had been buried in. Unfortunately, the detail of the photo wasn't great enough for her to decipher much else. "Have you thought of a topic for your graduation thesis yet?"

The expression that registered hovered somewhere between disgust and guilt. "Most of the physical science topics have been so well researched and reported on in the past few years that there isn't much left to say about them. I've been considering something along a more behavioural approach, but as you know, I don't experience much interaction between people in the lab."

_Because I work with dead people every day_. Brennan winced slightly. Zach was an excellent student, but sometimes it seemed that his innocence was entirely out of place in this setting. "Well," she hedged, "You are getting much better at discerning the effects of behaviour on the skeletal remains of a human. It's something to think about."

Zach nodded, seeming distracted, and they both turned back to their individual projects. Google Earth apparently didn't have a satellite dedicated to Casino Windsor. Brennan was about to give up in disgust when the phone rang. "Brennan."

As per usual, Booth didn't bother introducing himself, or extend any kind of greeting. Since this practice was generally a waste of time where their work was concerned, Brennan wouldn't usually have minded. Today, however, she was irritated with him.

Very irritated, it seemed. His every word seemed to grate across her words. "Victim's name is Allison Jensen; parents live in Windsor, she and her brother live in Waterloo. She hasn't been listed as 'missing,' so chances are her parents don't even know she's dead, but what about the brother? They go to the same university."

Brennan seethed quietly for a minute, trying not to grit her teeth. "Waterloo's not that big. If Allison and her brother were both in Waterloo, they were probably in contact. Unless they were fighting?" She pulled up the notes Angela had made on Karen Adams' web journal and scanned through them. "From what I've read, it looks like they were pretty close. When Allison went missing, Luke should have reported it." She loved it when she had details on a case that he didn't.

"Another suspect?"

She tried to picture herself in the same situation. "Conjecture. There is no evidence to indicate that Luke Jensen was out with the two girls that night. And if he _did_ kill his sister, then this isn't your case anymore, because Canada just _happens_ to be outside FBI jurisdiction!" Brennan sighed. As much as she would have loved to "spread the pain", as Booth said, she didn't exactly want a murderer potentially going free. "We know that Karen Adams was out with Allison Jensen the night that she died. We'll have to start there."

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Booth tried to decipher what she meant. "Bones, are you suggesting we go into the field? Because if you are, I owe Angela twenty bucks, so I want to be sure."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan turned away from the computer screen and propped her feet up on her bookshelf. "Booth, there isn't anything more we can _do_ with the body since it's not even the girl we're looking for. Yes, we could look for her killer – but we don't even know if the killer meant for her to die or if Karen Adams was the intended target, or if Karen Adams herself _is_ the murderer. The only way we are going to be able to discover these things is if we visit the scene of the crime and interview anyone who could be involved." Her stomach clenched. She was not looking forward to a long trip with Booth under these new circumstances. There was no guarantee she could keep herself from being openly hostile.

She hoped the FBI provided good medical coverage.

"So what you're saying is that I owe Angela twenty bucks."

"What I am saying is that we need to go to Michigan-" on the sofa, Zach looked up quickly, and then returned his attention to his work- "Windsor, and probably Waterloo, but yes, you do owe Angela twenty dollars."

In her head, she was already mentally reviewing what she would need to pack. Clothes, toiletries, a box of gloves, her "plus" level field kit, laptop, Canadian currency, passport, and -

"Alright, two tickets on the next flight up to Detroit Metro. You don't have anything scheduled for the rest of the week, do you?"

She'd planned on writing another chapter of her latest book, going to the dojo and maybe even shopping for a television, but those things could wait. "Nothing I can't cancel. But," she looked up at Zach, who was still pretending to be engrossed in his paperwork, and thought about how much she _didn't_ want to be alone on a plane with Booth, "we're going to need three tickets."

**SEGUE**

"Hi, sweetie. Do you mind if I come in for a minute?"

Brennan looked up from her final report on the evidence given by the body of Allison Jensen. In the back of her mind, she was simplifying and rehearsing some of the facts, knowing that sooner or later she would have to speak with the victim's parents. Considering the fact that Karen Adams still hadn't been found _later_ could mean much later – any earlier contact could compromise their case. "Angela, come in. What's up?"

Angela sat gingerly on the sofa, leaning forward on her elbows. "Thank you," she said, smiling tightly, "for volunteering Zach to go along on this trip. I know it means a lot to him. He's been so homesick lately..."

Nodding, Brennan felt herself blush. She had noticed, well, overheard Jack and Angela talking about it, anyway. And she had access to one more fact that they didn't. Besides, Angela wouldn't exactly take it well if she discovered that Brennan had insisted on bringing Zach along as a means of avoiding Booth. "His dog is dying," she blurted.

Angela looked shocked – probably more at the fact that Brennan knew something about someone that she didn't rather than the fact that Zach's dog was ill. "What?"

"His dog," she repeated sheepishly, "Sadie. He's had her since she was a puppy." Apologetically, she added, "I don't think he meant to tell me. He just... needed to, and I happened to be there."

Before she could react, the artist had swept her into a crushing hug. "Oh, sweetie. You're growing up so fast." Angela pulled back, and her smile changed gradually to something uneasy. "There's just one thing I have to ask you..."

"What is it, Ange?"

Angela never got to answer, because at that moment Hodgins barged into the office, holding up a test tube full of a noxious-looking brown liquid. "Oh... am I interrupting something?"

Judging by Angela's glare, the answer to that question could only be 'yes,' but Angela just shook her head.

"Stomach contents," Hodgins explained with a shrug. "There's not much left after all of those weeks, but there was definitely alcohol. That explains how Allison could have ingested the strychnine without realizing it – the alcohol would have masked the taste."

"That's great, Jack." Especially if he could further identify the liquor; if it was a specialty brand, there would be only a limited number of places to get it, and they could interview the bartenders. "Can you identify the type?"

He smiled, obviously quite happy with himself. "As a matter of fact, I did identify the type. It's beer. More specifically, a stout. If I had to guess, I'd say this stuff is the real deal."

"Guinness?" Angela asked, making a face. "What girl in her right mind drinks G_uinness_?"

He shrugged. "She obviously didn't have your delicate sensibilities. The important thing is that we've narrowed the search. Karen and Allison had to be at a pub specializing in imported beer the night she died."

Brennan nodded. "Thanks, Hodgins." He saluted cheekily as he walked out the door. "Now, what were you going to say?"

"I was going to say," Angela sighed, "don't leave me alone with Hodgins!"

What? "But you and Jack don't fight," she pointed out. "You call each other strange names and take Zach on extended family outings."

Squirming a little, the artist sighed, then squared ducked her head. "He wants to ask me on a date. I can just tell with these things," she lamented. "You know? And I don't know if I should say yes. What if I do say yes and the date is terrible? Then I still have to see him every day! Or what if I say no? Would that be worse?"

Brennan shifted uncomfortably. She was not normally the first person one came to with a relationship issue. In fact, she imagined that she ranked somewhere near the bottom of that list. But logic – that she could handle. "What if you say yes and you have a good time?" she asked. "That is also an option."

Angela groaned. "That would be the worst of all. I mean, it's bound to go wrong sometime, right?"

Mathematically speaking, that was probably true. However, Brennan was fairly sure that that wasn't what Angela needed to hear. So she said the only thing she could think of that might take Angela's mind off the subject and set her thinking clearly, or at least normally again, regardless of the headache it would cause. "Why is this different from your assertion that I should sleep with Booth?"

"Brenn!" More squirming. "That's different."

"Why?" Brennan asked, honestly curious.

Angela averted her eyes. "Maybe I don't just want to sleep with him."

_Oh._ So Cam and Booth weren't the only ones with a budding workplace romance. Strangely, the idea of Jack and Angela together didn't make her quite as uncomfortable. "That's the problem, isn't it? You see him as a potential mate, but because you value him as a member of your social family, you are unwilling to make the transition."

"Don't analyse me, please."

"I'm just trying to understand," Brennan said defensively. "I'm not a student of psychology. An anthropological interpretation is the only way I can," _what was the phrase?_ "get into your shoes. I didn't mean to-"

But Angela was already subsiding. "No, you're right, I know. Sometimes, people don't like to hear the truth."

"The truth is just a metaphor we have forgotten is a metaphor," she mumbled absently. Like many other metaphors, truth was something that she had not yet deciphered.

"I know what the metaphor is," Angela admitted. "I'm just not sure I want to see it realized."

And they were back into the realm of the incomprehensible. "I don't know what that means."

Angela smiled wanly. "Lucky you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Disclaimer: I do not own "Bones," nor am I making any profit.

Notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed – this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Thanks as always to ani8 (livejournal) for beta-reading.

**Chapter Six**

"What do you mean, there's more?" Booth nursed a coffee in one hand, holding a growing case file in the other.

Zach, for once, did an admirable job of explaining without being overly verbose. "I first noticed the discrepancy between the victim's size and her clothing when I was removing her boot, but I thought decay might have played a factor. Once time of death had been established, I asked Dr. Hodgins to try to reconstruct what the clothing might have looked like before it had been buried."

Hodgins nodded. "Right, and once I had finished ridiculing him for his interest in women's fashion, I did some analysis. I made an educated guess about the approximate size of Allison Jensen versus the size of her shirt and the jeans she was wearing-" Somehow, Booth got the feeling that Hodgins was some kind of expert on women's sizes- "and there's no way they would've fit her. So I turned the project over to Angela."

Sometimes, working with the squints in the Medico-Legal lab was a little bit like going to the circus. Angela supplied, "I compared Hodgins' data with some of the pictures I found on Karen Adams' web log. The shirt Allison was wearing when she was buried definitely belonged to Karen."

Booth fought the urge to sigh. Squinty little details like this sometimes solved the case for him and took all the fun out. And sometimes they complicated – _obfuscated_, Bones would have said – the truth to the point where it was impossible to decide between suspects. He wasn't sure yet which category this fell into, if either. "Is there any way to tell whether she was wearing the shirt before she died?"

The look exchanged between Zach and Hodgins told him everything he needed to know. "Yeah, I thought that might be too much to ask for. Listen, have you guys seen Bones? I need to talk to her." First, to find out why she was acting so, well, cold, even for her; and second, to give her another reason.

"You don't want to do that right now," Angela advised.

_Ah-ha!_ So Angela knew what was going on. "Why not?"

"Come on, Booth, you don't need a PhD to figure this out. Use your deductive reasoning skills. Why could Temperance Brennan possibly be annoyed with you?"

Booth was about ready to throttle her when Zach piped in with, "Is this about that Naked Twister game?"

_Oh, god, someone's been teaching him euphemisms._ Zach once again surpassed Angela on the To Kill list. Even worse than Zach using metaphorical language was the suspicion that he might know exactly why Bones was pissed at him. His stomach knotted. _Shit._

He couldn't quite keep the wince off his face. "Time to face the music. Is she in her office?"

Hodgins nodded. "Good luck, man."

He'd probably need it.

**SEGUE**

As luck or misfortune would have it, Booth never made it to Brennan's office. Halfway up the stairs, Cam caught up with him. "Hey, Seeley," she said. "Have you talked to Brennan yet?"

It must have been Workplace Relationship Karma day or something. "As a matter of fact, I haven't. But I get the impression that someone may have tipped her off."

Cam shrugged. "Well, that explains why she's been in such a good mood today."

He looked over at her sharply. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"If I wanted to tell her, why would I ask you to?" Well, that was a fair enough question. "I can't believe she's acting this way. It just seems so childish."

Booth bristled. For someone who had been hired for her people skills, Cam could be pretty insensitive. "Bones doesn't trust people easily. I betrayed that trust. This is a big deal to her."

"I don't see why it's any of her business what you do on your time off."

_What about the time I spend here?_ Booth wondered guiltily, thinking of the previous day in Cam's office. "She's not _just_ my partner, Cam." In fact, she wasn't 'just' anything. "Look at it from her perspective. Professionally, this is the equivalent of going over her head – a denial of her authority and abilities. Personally, it's like I lied to her. I _did_ lie to her. Of course she's upset!"

Dismissively, Cam rolled her eyes. "Well, she'll have to get over it. I can't have her attitude disrupting my lab." She led the way into her office. "Are we still on for Friday? I know a great Italian place on L Street."

Gritting his teeth, Booth did his very best not to expound, loudly, on just how out of line she was. "We've got to go check out the crime scene, do some interviews. I should be back by Monday."

Cam pouted. "You can't let the local authorities take care of it?"

_Not even if I wanted to_. "They don't have the same feel for the case, and as a security precaution we want to limit the amount of people who have access to the details. Besides, the body has to be returned, and it needs an escort."

"I guess you'll have to make it up to me on Monday, then."

Booth thought ahead to Monday. He would be tired from a long flight, frustrated from the case, and irritable from lack of sleep. Seeing Cam, he knew, was not going to rank in his top ten priorities.

That was probably a sign that this relationship – like so many others before it – was doomed to failure – as if he hadn't known that from the very beginning. The only difference was that now he was willing to face that and desperate to get past it. "I don't think so."

Cam frowned. "Seeley-"

He cut her off. "I don't want to do this anymore, Cam. When I said this was a mistake, I meant it. Now it's time for me to face up to it and move on. I'm sorry."

Folding her arms like that gave Cam an eerie resemblance to a pint-sized mockery of Bones. "What do you mean, it was a _mistake_? I know damn well you were enjoying yourself as much as I was."

Booth took a deep breath and ran one hand through his hair. "I don't love you," he said shortly. It felt so good to get that off of his chest that he continued, almost without thinking, "Sometimes I'm not even sure I like you. And I don't like the person I am when I'm with you. I didn't like sneaking around, but more than that I don't like the fact that I'd _rather_ sneak around than come clean."

_Whoops_. He hadn't meant to say quite that much.

Cam was really on the warpath now, practically vibrating with anger from tip to toe. It was, he decided, a little bit pathetic for her to react this way, when by her own admission she had only been having fun. "So, the truth comes out," she half-snarled. "I knew this would happen!"

He froze, hand already on the doorknob, and barely looked back over his shoulder. "Then why did you bother?"

"She doesn't love you," he heard when he was halfway out the door.

His free hand clenched into a fist. "Neither do you."

Booth refrained from slamming the door behind him, but only just. Letting out a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and leaned back against it for a few seconds. For someone that he'd never loved, Cam had caused him a lot of anguish. At least that part was over now, he reflected, except, of course, for the fact that they would still have to see each other, since he worked with Bones.

At least Cam wasn't his partner, he thought. He didn't know what he'd do without Brennan's tempering influence. Sure, she set him off sometimes – but more often, she pointed out the flaws in his logic and led him – though often indirectly – to a better way of thinking. He worked better with her than with any other partner he'd had, and he would have been doing himself a disservice if he didn't wonder about why that was, sometimes.

Not that he would ever admit any of this to her face.

Feeling the tension finally begin to drain, Booth gave himself a mental count of ten before unclenching, inhaling deeply and opening his eyes again. The flight was scheduled to leave at six that evening, and he wanted to attempt some kind of apology-cum-explanation to Bones before sitting on a plane with her for an hour and a half plus security wait times.

However, when he opened his eyes, he couldn't help but be a little bit startled to see her standing there, gaping.

He groaned inwardly. _Could this get any better?_ "Uh, Bones," he stumbled, totally disgusted with himself. "Would you believe me if I said this is only half what it looks like?"

Brennan crossed her arms, though Booth thought she looked more vulnerable than angry. "I don't know what it looks like today, since one of you managed to close the blinds this time, but you should really talk to her about getting her office soundproofed."

_So, happy, relieved, disappointed? Let me know how I did!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Here is chapter seven, in which Booth and Brennan have to have a Talk. Not The Talk; it is too early for that. But progress is progress. Right? Right?!?! Plus Zach talks about the Mile High Club.

Thanks as always go to ani8 (livejournal) for the beta, and you guys for reviewing. If you did review. If you sneaked into the back of the theatre without paying... well, at least you're still here, right?

Disclaimer: Bones is still not and never will be mine, no matter how many clever non-sequiturs I come up with.

**Chapter Seven**

"_I don't know what it looks like today, since one of you managed to close the blinds this time, but you should really talk to her about getting her office soundproofed." _

Oh, hell. Booth really didn't know how he kept ending up in situations like this, but hopefully now that he'd ended his pseudo-relationship with Cam, things would straighten out again. He followed her as she turned around and headed back to her office. "Bones-" No, that wouldn't work; he'd have to bring out the big guns. "Temperance."

She turned to him, posture rigid, lips pressed into a thin line. "What could you possibly have to say for yourself?" Her words sliced through the thick air between them. "I thought you were my _friend_! Friends tell each other things, Booth; they don't sleep with each other's bosses and then lie to cover it up!"

Three things occurred to Booth then. The first was that he was in bigger trouble than he'd thought. The second was that he deserved every second of misery. But the third and most interesting thing was that Bones was taking this a lot more personally than even he had anticipated. "I know," he admitted, "I fucked up." Twice, he realized – first by getting into a relationship with Cam, and second by hiding it from his closest friend.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her question made his insides twist a little in discomfort. "Our relationship... mine and Cam's... it wasn't great, Bones. It didn't mean anything to me. I guess I was ashamed of it." Well, that was at least _part_ of the truth. He would tell her what he was beginning to suspect might be the _other_ part of the truth later, for example when they were dead.

Expression softening, Brennan unfolded her arms and rested her hands on the back of her chair. "Like Rebecca again?" she asked concernedly. Then she ruined it by adding, "Don't they have support groups for this sort of thing?"

Booth smiled in spite of himself, although he did also allow himself the luxury of rolling his eyes. "For being a complete idiot in the ways of the heart? It's called the Man Club and if you're born with a penis, you're automatically signed up, dues paid."

Bones smiled back a little. "Well, you're not a _complete_ idiot, although you have shown remarkably poor judgement lately."

He made a face at her, trying not to read too much into the comment. "Thanks." Sarcastically, for the snide remark – but on another level he knew he meant it, because somehow she'd forgiven him, even though he probably didn't deserve it.

Breaking eye contact, Brennan shuffled around some papers on her desk. "So, what time is our flight leaving?"

"Six o'clock. We should be ready to leave for the airport in about an hour."

She nodded. "So it will be too late when we get there to start our investigation. Did you make a hotel reservation yet?"

Flopping lazily onto the couch, he shook his head. "It's not exactly high tourist season. I might just stay at the airport hotel, or maybe rent a car and find a place a little closer to the safe houses. Why?"

Brennan shrugged, stopped fiddling with the chair, and sat down in it. "Zach's sister is picking him up at the airport; he's staying at home. His mother invited me to stay with them... but I think that might be..."

"Awkward?" Booth suggested. He tried to imagine the scene, but he didn't know much about Zach's home life.

"Uncomfortable," she agreed. "Zach has a large family and... and I'm not very good with people."

Booth was pretty sure she had almost said, _and I haven't got much family at all_, or perhaps even none, although he knew she and Russ were working on restoring their relationship. She'd even told him that she was thinking of dedicating her next book to her brother. Still, he could see how that setting might be a little jarring. "You were hoping that if I had already made a reservation, you could decline without hurting anyone's feelings. That's considerate of you."

Looking up from her computer with a glare, she pointed out, "I'm not _completely_ inept, you know. I grasp the basic sensitivities behind proper manners. I just... forget, sometimes."

"Well, if you think you're going to slip, you know you can come to me, right?" he teased.

Bones threw him a dirty look, but it was laced with amusement. "Maybe you should take your own advice." She turned off the computer. "I'm going to go tell Zach to start finishing up what he's doing."

Booth nodded, stretching out further on the couch. "Don't forget to tell Angela you're leaving; she'll probably have a few hours worth of advice for you."

"Unfortunately, most of it will be useless, since I'm not going to sleep with you."

_Did I hear that right?_ He glanced up, mouth slightly agape, brows furrowed, and realized that he had absolutely no idea what to say to that.

Brennan, however, evidently had something to add. "Don't look so shocked," she said, half-smug and half-bitter. Maybe three-quarters smug. "Someone has to be immune to your charms."

"Yeah, but did it have to be you?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think about it. Willing himself not to cringe, he added, "I mean, I need all the help I can get."

Temperance just laughed at him as she walked out the door.

**SEGUE**

Booth stashed Zach's duffle bag beside Brennan's small rolling suitcase in the back of the SUV and shut the hatch. "Buckle up, kid. You don't get airsick, do you?"

"Not since I was thirteen," Zach answered hesitantly. "Is that the right answer?"

"Tell you what," Booth opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, "Bones can sit in the middle." He gave her his best charm grin and donned his sunglasses.

"I thought we established that wasn't going to work on me." She looked at him coolly.

_Yeah, this is going to be a long trip_, he decided as he started the Tahoe.

Forty minutes later they were checked in, through security, and thoroughly sick of each other's company.

"Listen, kid, you've gotta stop staring. You're making me look bad by association."

Zach spared him a disparaging glance and went back to making notes in his coil notebook. Every so often he would look up and make a squinty face at a couple talking across the gate, tapping his pen distractedly on the notebook.

"Leave him alone," Bones defended without taking her attention off of her laptop. "If people look at you funny just flash your badge at them or something."

Booth ignored her. It was only fair, after all; she was ignoring him. "What are you doing, anyway?" he asked Zach. "Is this some kind of creepy stalker side of you I've never seen before?"

"It's an ethnography experiment," Zach answered tonelessly. "I am observing and recording human activity in hopes of developing a mathematical model of behaviour prediction."

That, of course, got Brennan's attention. She looked up from her laptop and focused on her student, contemplative. "That's a fairly in-depth project, Zach. Are you going to use it as part of your thesis?"

His eyes never moved from the couple he'd been observing. "I'm concerned about the lack of practical application, considering the specific focus. Angela provided me with a number of different attributes to focus on, but that does tend to create a skewed result. And even if my calculations are correct, the implications..." he shrugged. "I feel a little bit like Big Brother."

Booth was too busy trying to decipher what it was that Zach had just said to be surprised by the pop culture reference. "What exactly did any of that mean?"

Slamming his notebook shut, Zach sighed. "It means I really hope those two aren't on our flight, because they're about to join the Mile High Club."

"It's only an hour and a half flight," Booth protested, incredulous. Getting up in the middle of such a short flight to – well, it would be obvious! "Wait, you can predict that kind of thing?"

"What's the Mile High Club?" Bones wanted to know.

"A colloquial expression for a fictional association of persons who have copulated in mid-flight," Zach answered without a beat. "It's not an exact science, Agent Booth, more of a prototype. As I said, I am convinced neither of its veracity nor its applications – but it is a fascinating study."

"Fascinating," Bones commented, snapping her laptop shut. "An act of sexual intimacy that has achieved cult status. I was a member of a highly specific social clique and wasn't even aware of it."

_What?!_ "Wait, Bones, you're not saying _you..._ on an airplane? _Really_?" _No way. _He tried not to gape or squirm or breathe, or do anything that would give away just how difficult it was to stop his imagination from running away with that particular fact.

Zach looked just as shocked as he felt. "Dr. Brennan?" To be fair, he looked a good deal greener than Booth was feeling.

"Does Angela know about this?" Booth asked stupidly.

Brennan fixed him with a piercing stare. Considering the things he was completely failing not to think about, it made him particularly uncomfortable. "Come on, Booth, you've been on enough flights. You're telling me that you've never--"

"Calling American Airlines flight A37 with service to Detroit, your flight is boarding at gate D7. Repeat, American Airlines flight A37 with service to Detroit is now boarding all passengers."

_Saved by the bell_, Booth thought, standing and collecting his carry-on luggage. He got into line just after the couple Zach had been watching for the past half an hour. "This is going to be a long flight."


	8. Chapter 8

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Disclaimer: "Bones," characters, and events and locations related thereto are the property of Fox and Kathy Reichs. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.

Special Thanks to ani8 (livejournal) for the beta and to all of you who've reviewed.

Chapter Eight

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent into Detroit. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright position."

Brennan put down the novel she'd been reading and half-rolled her neck. Normally even long flights didn't bother her, but this one had been particularly tiresome. Zach had spent most of the trip taking notes on the couple from the airport, who had disappeared into the bathroom – together – twenty minutes into the flight. Booth had peppered him with questions about how the model worked for about five minutes before losing interest entirely, turning his attention to attempting to read over her shoulder.

Ten minutes later the 'couple' emerged and went back to their separate seats – and Temperance realized they weren't a couple at all but merely two strangers who had happened to share a flight. She couldn't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy at the ease of their whirlwind relationship – it had been too long, she realized, since she had connected with anyone on an intimate physical level, however superficially. In other words, as Angela would have said, she needed to get laid.

Maybe after this case.

Carefully tucking the novel into her carry-on, she did a quick check around her seat to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Then she slowly straightened up and nudged with first one elbow, then the other. "Guys, wake up. We're landing and my shoulders are bruising." Besides, she felt like some kind of oversized pillow, which was silly. She was a lot bonier than any pillow had a right to be – they couldn't possibly have been comfortable, slouched over like that.

Zach woke immediately, blushing and stammering. "Sorry, Dr. Brennan," he said sheepishly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "I've always hated air travel."

Booth, on the other hand, had taken her sharp jab to the solar plexus in stride. He grunted in his sleep, but otherwise did not stir from his position. Frustrated that he could invade her personal space even while unconscious, Brennan cupped his forehead in her hand and pushed none-too-gently until his head thunked softly against the window.

That woke him up. "Ow! Bones!"

She crossed her arms defensively. "Well, next time don't use me as a pillow!"

"I didn't!" Booth protested, rubbing the side of his head gently. "Just a head rest."

Brennan resisted the urge to hit him with the flimsy airline-provided pillow and just rolled her eyes.

Half an hour later they were on the ground in Detroit, waiting for their luggage to come through the baggage claim. The impromptu couple from the plane were now at opposite ends of the conveyor, studiously avoiding each other's eyes. Maybe random sexual encounters with strangers were to be avoided, after all.

She had just switched her cell phone on again and was checking her voicemail when Booth appeared with their suitcases, Zach in tow. "You ready?"

She nodded; mobile pressed to her ear, made a token attempt to take her own suitcase, and followed him to the car rental counter.

There were only two messages – the first, from Russ, was a well-meant but an ultimately unnecessary warning to stay out of the less savoury parts of Detroit. The second was from Angela.

"Hi Brenn, it's me. Hodgins found an earring we missed on Allison's jacket; he thinks it was in her pocket at one point. I'm sending you a picture. Come home soon Hodgins is driving me crazy!" Pause. "Oops, gotta go, I think he heard me. Bye, sweetie!"

She hung up, scrolling down her menu to find the picture Angela had sent. It was a hoop earring with multicoloured beads dangling from the bottom. Why had it been in the girl's pocket, and not in her ear? Perhaps the other earring had been lost or broken, and Allison had removed this one in compensation.

Speculation wasn't likely to be productive, so Brennan shut her cell phone and turned to Zach. "Where is your sister meeting you?"

He looked around. "She said she'd meet me at the coffee bar--"

Zach was cut off in the middle of his sentence by a pair of thin, pale arms wrapped around his neck and their matching legs around his waist. "Oof!"

Admirably, he did not fall flat onto the floor – a fact which flew in the face of the laws of physics. "Zachary Jason! I can't believe you're finally _home_!" There was an eardrum-piercing squeal.

"Can't... breathe," Zach gasped, and the girl dropped to the floor. Brennan saw that she had the same lanky frame and round face, but her attitude was not something she had ever seen on Zach.

"And you brought a friend," she added appreciatively as Booth turned away from the car rental counter. She stuck out her hand, and that, Brennan couldn't help but notice, wasn't the only thing. "Ruth Addy, but you can call me Roo."

Booth raised his eyebrows and looked at Zach. "Are you sure you're related?" But he shook the girl's hand. Much as he might be inclined to rudeness around scientists and other males, he would never alienate a woman. Anthropologically speaking, Brennan mused, that wasn't so odd. "Special Agent Seeley Booth. You coming with me, Bones?"

As nervous as it made her, she wasn't. "No, I'm going to meet Zach's family. Pick us up at eight?"

He nodded, and before he'd even turned around Ruth's attention shifted. "Omigosh! You're Dr. Brennan! Zach will _not_ shut up about you! Can I have your autograph?"

Against her will, Temperance felt her lips twitch into a smile. "I had no idea I was so famous." Poor Zach looked like he'd spent a week in the Sahara, his face was so red. "Maybe once we get to wherever it is we're going?"

"Southfield," Ruth answered, falling into step on the other side of Zach, her arm linked through his. "It's not too far from here but there's no telling what the traffic's like. You're lucky; construction's almost done for the season..."

Slowly but surely, Brennan filtered her out. "Is she always like this?" she whispered.

"Drama student," Zach whispered back. "Does she remind you of anyone?"

Temperance took in the dark hair, the perfect hair and make up, and the bubbly attitude with a slight smile. "You should bring her to meet Angela."

**SEGUE**

The early morning sunshine seeping through the blinds was not, in fact, what woke Temperance Brennan from her sleep the next morning. Nor was it the rooster crowing on top of the hen house.

It was, in fact, her body's own natural reaction to the dream she was having that roused her from unconsciousness.

The dream itself had started out innocuously enough. Well, innocuous in a way. She had been back in her office with Booth the day previously; only this time they were both naked. Strangely enough, they were having the same conversation that they had had yesterday, except backwards. When the conversation ended (started?), they walked backwards down the hall and Booth went into Cam's office.

"Neither do you." Booth's voice, harsh and bitter.

Then Cam, almost vicious in intensity, and colder than Temperance remembered: "She doesn't love you."

"Then why did you bother?"

"So, the truth comes out. I knew this would happen!"

"I don't like the person I am when I'm with you. I didn't like sneaking around, but more than that I don't like the fact that I'd _rather_ sneak around than come clean."

After that, the dream started up in sequential order again, but now Temperance was wearing the black dress from their undercover case in Las Vegas. When Booth left the office he was wearing the stained tank-top he'd worn in the ring and his Christmas boxers. But he didn't close his eyes and lean against the door – he saw her standing there, uncomfortable in her dress, and moved towards her. "That's hot," he growled in his "Tony" voice.

Then he kissed her.

It was at this point that Brennan sat straight up in bed, suddenly wide, wide awake. Suddenly the question of whom, exactly, Booth and Cam had been referring to during that conversation was foremost in her mind. Illogically, impossibly, she had the sudden realization that she might just want it to be her.

Pushing that fleeting thought aside, she stood and stretched, wishing she had been able to sleep past – she glanced at her watch – six thirty. She made the bed more out of habit than because she was a good guest, and then smothered a yawn with one hand. The room, while cosy, made her eyes tired. It had once belonged to Zach's twin older sisters, and was done entirely in shades of pink. The adjacent bathroom, which she now wandered into, shared the theme. Pink. Lots of pink. Pink towels, pink shower curtain, pink bathmat; even the antibacterial soap by the sink was bubblegum pink.

Seven minutes later Brennan stepped out of the shower with a slight sigh. She had hoped that the hot water would help to erase the memories of her dream, but this one seemed particularly stubborn. She was suddenly comforted by the fact that she didn't believe in psychology.

Quietly, she made her way down to the kitchen.

"Dr. Brennan! You're up early!"

Zach's mother was standing over a hot frying pan, wearing flannel pyjamas and a terrycloth robe. Luckily, she didn't seem self-conscious in the least. "Would you like some pancakes? Coffee?"

"Thank you. Are you always up this early?"

Maxine smiled, handing her a cup of coffee. "It's a habit I got into when the kids were small. Before seven o'clock was the only time I'd have to myself sometimes." The smile grew a little bit sad. "Now that they're mostly out of the house, I miss the chaos."

"I think I know what you mean." They ate in relative quiet for a few minutes. "These pancakes are excellent."

"Thank you, Doctor, but it's my husband who's the real expert. It's his recipe."

It was odd, Brennan thought, that she could sit here in the kitchen of a woman she barely knew and make small talk about pancakes. Maybe her people skills weren't so bad after all, or maybe Maxine's were just that good. "Please, call me Temperance." She paused and smiled a little. "At least when Zach's not around."

Maxine chuckled. "He was quite taken with you in the beginning, you know. He has trouble relating to most people because he's so intelligent."

Blushing, Temperance fought the urge to duck her head. She wasn't entirely sure this was a conversation she wanted to have, after all.

She was saved from having to answer by a scratching at the back door. Maxine stood quickly. "Oh, my goodness. I forgot to feed the chickens. Could you give me a hand?"

Well, this would be an interesting experience. Suddenly she felt like she had been transported back to 1950s America. "Sure."

The scratching at the door turned out to be an aging sheepdog, half-blind, from the way it kept bumping into things and arthritic by its gait. "That'll get Zach up," Maxine smiled, and led the way to the hen house.

Maxine handed her a small pail of dry feed. "Just give them a few handfuls of this," she instructed, and suddenly looked a little guilty, "and while they're out there I'll rob the nests."

Brennan couldn't help herself. "Does it bother you to take their eggs?" she asked, letting herself into the pen and scattering the feed. The hens and chicks scrambled over, pecking the ground and each other in their haste.

With a wry look, the other woman explained, "It's one thing to do it myself every morning, but something altogether different when someone watches you do it. It makes you think of your own kids."

She spread another handful of ground corn. "I wouldn't know what that's like. I don't have any children."

Maxine laughed. "Want to borrow a few?"

Frowning, Brennan asked, "But you love your children. Why would you want to get rid of them?" Having finished with the feeding, she let herself back out of the gate.

Maxine was shaking her head. "I wouldn't – I said borrow!" But she was still smiling, so evidently the question hadn't offended her. "I can certainly see why Zach was taken with you."

Inside, Zach and Ruth were sitting at the breakfast table, devouring a stack of pancakes. Or, more appropriately, Zach was devouring and Ruth was going through what Brennan recognized as a monologue from Faust. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that she was wearing very small pyjamas.

"Till swol'n with cunning, of a self-conceit,

His waxen wings did mount above his reach,

And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow;

For, falling to a devilish exercise,

And glutted now with learning's golden gifts,

He surfeits upon cursed necromancy," Ruth heaved, then lowered her voice so that Temperance leaned forward unconsciously to hear the rest, though she knew this introduction by heart:

"Nothing so sweet as magic is to him,

Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss: And this the man that in his study sits." Brennan's impulse to applaud was interrupted by a knock at the door. Through the glass, she could clearly see her partner, suit and sunglasses and all. There was a Cadillac Escalade parked in the driveway behind him; apparently he was taking liberties with vehicle rentals again. "Is that your partner?" Maxine asked as her daughter spun around and flounced to the door. "Yes, that's Agent Booth." Maxine smiled a bit in his general direction. "Poor Zach." Temperance was pretty sure she understood what the older woman was getting at, and flushed an uncharacteristically bright red. Booth came in at Ruth's obvious insistence and was introduced to Maxine formally. "Agent Booth. Can I offer you some breakfast? That is, if Zach hasn't eaten it all." He gave her his patented charm smile. Brennan really wished he wouldn't do that when she was in the room. "It smells delicious, but unfortunately, we're on a deadline. Are you two ready?" They nodded and stood. "Thank you for breakfast, Maxine, and for the room. It was nice to meet you." "Oh, likewise. Come back any time. See you tonight, Zach!" Brennan waved as they disappeared out the door. _Please remember to review!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Disclaimer: Not mine! No money. Etc. See chapter one if you are really determined to sue me.

Author's notes: I apologize on bended knees for the hugetastic delay. I promise chapter ten won't take as long. This is because classes are done in a week! YAY!

As always, mucho thanks to ani8 for the beta. If it weren't for her, there would be words missing and I wouldn't reread chapters and realize things that totally don't make any sense.

Chapter Nine

"Do I need to be here?" Zach asked petulantly when they stepped out of the car at the safe house. "I'm a grad student, not an FBI interrogator."

Booth slammed the door a little harder than was probably necessary. "This is where Karen Adams was last seen alive. Treat it like a crime scene."

Zach didn't move for approximately ten seconds while he considered this. Finally, he said, "I can do that."

Booth rolled his eyes and reached for his sunglasses. "Glad to hear it." He reached into his pocket to get his badge, and Bones knocked on the door.

The house itself looked just like any other house. The U.S. Marshals that ran the place masqueraded as a normal couple; often, the witnesses they were assigned were young, so they told their neighbours they were foster parents.

After a short pause, a woman of around forty opened the door. "Yes?"

Booth flashed his badge. "I'm Agent Booth; this is Dr. Brennan and her assistant, Zach. We're here about Karen Adams."

The woman pulled her own badge out of her vest's inner pocket. "Cassidy Nolan, U.S. Marshals. We've been expecting you."

He waited for Bones and Zach to enter before closing the door behind him and locking it.

"My partner Alan is in the shower. We didn't think you'd be quite this early. Normally agents from out of state have a hard time finding the place."

Booth was about to feel smug for his triumph over Michigan's impossible roads when Bones piped up with, "There's a navigation system in the car. Where was the last place you saw Karen Adams?"

Nolan sat on the couch in the windowless living room, gesturing for them to do the same. "The day she disappeared, we were sitting in the living room. Alan went into the office to send an email, and then Karen got up to go to bed. That was the last time we saw her."

"So she was alone in her bedroom the night she disappeared?"

She nodded. "We were sure no one would ever find her. Her bedroom was in the basement; it had only one window of bullet-proof glass, and it only opened from the inside if you knew the security code."

Now that was interesting.

"Would you mind if my assistant had a look around?" Bones asked politely, nodding at Zach.

"Be my guest," Nolan smiled slightly. "Maybe you'll be able to find something we missed. Local CSIs went over the room pretty thoroughly, but they had to do it at night so the neighbours wouldn't get too suspicious. Her room is right this way."

After they had gone, Booth turned to his partner. "What do you think?"

She shrugged. "Either Karen Adams is a lot smarter than we gave her credit for, or..."

"Or it's an inside job," Booth finished for her. "Oh goody. I love it when I have to suspect the good guys."

"If it was an inside job, how would she have got to-"

He clapped a hand over her mouth. "_If_ it is," he whispered, "we don't want to go broadcasting her location, right?"

_Even if they probably already think she is dead_, he amended. And for all he knew, they could be right.

Bones licked his hand, reminding him to release her. He sheepishly wiped it on his pants, trying futilely to ignore the flash of heat that crept over his body. "Very mature."

As for his partner, she was looking a little flushed, herself. "As I was saying," she said a little sharply, "I think she ran away. But that's just conjecture."

"I'm tempted to agree with you," Booth admitted. "The really interesting question is – why?"

She didn't have the time to speculate, assuming she would have. A man, presumably Nolan's partner, was descending the stairs into the living room. "Can I help you folks?"

Booth flashed his badge again. "Just here to ask you a few questions about Karen Adams."

"You must be Agent Booth." The man shook his hand. "Alan Davino, U.S. Marshals. And you are...?"

Bones not-so-subtly averted his attempt at something more romantic than a handshake. It was on rare occasions like this one that her sub par social skills made him happy.

"This is my partner, Dr. Brennan," Booth said for her, purposefully omitting her given name. "She's a forensic-" He stopped himself just in time, not wanting to give away the fact that there had been a body discovered in connection to Karen's disappearance, "expert."

But his omission was for nothing. "Oh, the author?" Damn it, he was really going to have to convince her to write under a pen name or something. "It's a pleasure. Well, what do you need to know?"

That was the trouble with witnesses disappearing from federal custody, Booth thought with an inward sigh. You couldn't ask if they had any enemies because if they didn't, they wouldn't have been in protective custody in the first place. "The week before she disappeared, did Karen seem any different to you? Afraid, withdrawn... jumpy?"

Davino shook his head. "She was only here a couple of weeks. Didn't have much chance to feel her out, you know? But she seemed normal, I mean as normal as any high school English teacher could be. Sweet kid, bit intellectual for my taste, though. Spent too much time reading, surfing the internet. Not healthy."

"Was Karen in contact with anyone from her previous life that you knew of?" _Like her boyfriend_, Booth thought. The safe house where he was being held was the next stop on the schedule.

Shrugging, Davino lit a cigarette. "She had net access, but it was read-only – no email, no chat programs, no message boards. Couple of times we set up a phone relay so she could talk to her parents or her boyfriend, or some girl up North somewhere, but those had to be censored, just in case. She and what's-his-name – Brad – they sent a couple of letters back and forth, but they didn't take too kindly to their mail being read."

Bones caught his eye and he knew what she was thinking: the girl was most likely Allison Jensen. But none of this information was anything new. "The night she disappeared," she asked, "did she get a letter or a phone call? Receive any news about the case against Brad Callum?"

He shook his head again, exhaling a ring of cloying cigarette smoke. "All internet news sites are screened for content. Same thing with the television channels. We have to protect the integrity of the witness." He rolled his eyes and Booth had no doubt whatsoever what he thought about 'protecting the integrity of the witness.' "If you ask me, the more material she has to help convict those bastards, the better."

"You know," Bones began in her lecture voice (Booth was already mentally banging his head against the wall); "cigarette smoking causes a number of health-related issues. Anything from lung cancer to-"

Davino was laughing self-deprecatingly. "You sound like Karen, always telling me how bad for my health it is, leaving the room whenever I lit up. Showed me a picture of a Canadian cigarette package once that put me off for a day, but," he shrugged, taking another drag. "It seems I can't help myself."

_Right_, thought Booth. _Back to the case_. "When you discovered Karen was missing, about what time was it?"

He thought for a minute. "I don't know, sometime the next morning, I guess. Around seven? She could've got a long way by then."

"Did she have any identification that might have allowed her to travel?"

Davino stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray, looking a little green. "Shit. She had government-issued stuff. Genuine fake I.D."

Wincing, Booth made a mental note to check whether that I.D. had been used to obtain a passport or cross any borders. The search would probably be fruitless – Karen was a smart woman, and if she'd crossed into Canada first, there probably wouldn't be a record of her doing so.

Brennan surprised him by asking his next question before he could. "What about Brad Callum? Is it possible he had anything to do with her disappearance?"

"That kid?" Davino raised an eyebrow. "Just because he got himself tangled up in this case don't mean he's guilty. He's clean as they come, typical wrong-place, wrong-time." He flushed a little. "Plus, I read his letters. No way did he have anything to do with it." He scratched his slightly balding head. "If you ask me, I don't think you'll ever find her. Either she escaped from custody because she didn't want to testify, in which case she's too smart to get caught – or someone came in and escaped for her, if you know what I mean. In which case you're looking for a body at the bottom of a lake somewhere."

_Been there, done that_, Booth thought. Privately, he was more inclined to believe the former – which Karen had escaped of her own initiative, for whatever reason. "Thank you for your time," he stood, turning to Bones. "We should check up on your assistant."

SEGUE

Downstairs, Zach had finished taking photographs and bagging evidence. When Booth entered with Brennan in tow, he had his nose in Karen's laptop. "Where's Nolan?" Brennan wanted to know, looking around the small basement room that had served as Karen's.

Booth took a moment to look around for himself. There was no obvious sign of the window having been forced, although there was a chair standing directly underneath it. "I sent her to get me a glass of water," Zach said. "No prints on that number pad, by the way, Agent Booth, but I took a swab in case there's something else there I might have missed."

"Why did you ask her to leave?"

Zach turned away from the computer. "Because of the digital prints on Karen Jensen's laptop." He lowered his voice. "I didn't think they should know about it. In case they're suspects." He opened a window on the screen and pointed. "You see this? This is a program that was installed on the 14th of July of this year."

"That's the day before Karen went into custody," Brennan observed.

"Yes. And it was scrubbed from most of the computer records the night she disappeared. Whoever did this has had some training – or has a natural aptitude for technology. They were very thorough."

"Yeah, that's great." He was trying very hard not to be too sarcastic. In truth, he was impressed; Zach had found something that the CSIs had missed. Not that that was surprising – he was a child genius, after all. "The program, what does it do?"

Zach rolled his eyes. "I was just getting to that. In short... it's a wireless spy. Any packets of information that were sent or received over the internet would have shown up on Karen's computer."

That took a moment to sink in. Then Booth gaped. "She was _spying_ on the U.S. Marshals?"

Bones crossed her arms. "I guess we know why she ran away."

"Yeah," Booth agreed, looking at her seriously. "Or why she was taken."


	10. Chapter 10

**Red Fish, Blue Fish**

Disclaimer: I still don't own "Bones" and I am still not making any money. Well, not doing this anyway.

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to ani8 for the beta and the kick in the pants to get me finishing chapter 11.

For **nattysuits**, re: the boyfriend sending Bones and Booth in a new direction: honey, you have no idea! For everyone else... how would you like another plot twist?

CHAPTER TEN

"You think it's an inside job?" Brennan asked, surprised. It wasn't often that Booth expressed a lack of confidence in law enforcement officials – FBI, local PD, or otherwise. She wondered if this was one of those gut feeling things.

Booth shrugged. "It's possible. Or she could have been a plant, sent here for that express purpose. But that doesn't make much sense – this safe house is pretty fringe; not much worth spying on."

Right now, _none_ of this made sense – at least none that Brennan could see. She pulled her laptop out of its case and handed it to Zach. "Zach, I want you to get a chemical analysis on the swab from the security panel and send it to Hodgins as soon as you can." If the panel had been wiped down with something, there was a slim chance they might be able to determine what, which might in turn give them an idea of who had done the wiping. "What do we tell the Marshals?"

"Nothing." Booth's tone was uncharacteristically grim. "You finished with this place yet, kid?"

Zach shook his head, busy connecting the satellite hook-up to the laptop. "I haven't touched that bookshelf yet. Other than that, the room is spotless."

Pulling a pair of latex gloves from her coat pocket, Temperance squatted until she was eye-level with the bookshelf under the window. It was pretty crammed, which didn't surprise her, since Karen was an English teacher, but what _did_ surprise her was the range of books displayed. There were a few handwritten poetry journals, a battered set of Harry Potter books, some cheesy novels of the bodice-ripper variety (Brennan caught Booth smirking when she examined that one and kicked him in the shins), a well-worn copy of T. H. White's _The Once and Future King_, and the complete works of Dr. Seuss.

"No way," Booth exclaimed, leaning down and reaching with ungloved hands towards a book. Brennan slapped it. "Ow! Bones, it's the _Sleep Book_," he said, as if this were a matter of national importance.

"So?" She flipped through yet another one, checking for handwritten notes or anything else that might stick out as a clue. "Right now it's a crime scene. Put some gloves on. What's so great about a book about sleep?"

Booth pulled a pair of too-small gloves out of her pocket and sat beside her on the bed, reaching again for the book. "Are you kidding me? Any book that has Parker _wanting_ to go to bed is good enough for me." He opened the cover. "For two entire months, he didn't want another bedtime story."

But that searching book, and several that followed after it, proved useless. "I don't think there's anything here," Booth said. "We've been through most of the shelf-"

Zach, who had joined the search after transferring the chemical breakdown of the panel swab to Hodgins, interrupted. "I think I found something."

He held up the book facing them. The illustrated page was an image of a stylized wave and five fish. Most of the words had been scratched out.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" Brennan asked Booth, whom she supposed was the expert on the subject.

Frowning, he reached out his hands for the book. Zach passed it over, and Brennan examined it over her partner's shoulder. "No. I wonder if the rest of the book is..." Carefully, he turned each page, but all of the words had been inked over in a heavy black marker. He turned the pages back.

"'Red fish'?" Brennan read curiously. "What does that mean?"

"_One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish_," Booth recited, obviously having read this particular book before. "That's what it should say. So why just red fish?"

Zach was back at the laptop again, typing furiously. "What _kind_ of red fish?" he asked. "A herring?"

"Does that mean something?"

Tapping the book thoughtfully against the shelf, Booth mused, "A red herring. You know, Bones – a false clue? Something meant to throw us off the scent?"

She frowned. "But if someone wants to throw us off, why would they tell us? That doesn't make any sense."

"Unless they're trying to throw off only half of the people they think are looking for them."

"What, and it's the dumber ones they want to fool?" Booth asked sceptically. "That's a bit of a stretch."

Apparently, Zach was feeling a little bit cheeky this morning. "Do you have a better idea?"

Scowling, Booth stood. "Alright, we're not getting anything done here. Let's just pack up and see what the boyfriend can tell us, okay?"

SEGUE

Brad Callum turned out to be a tall, solidly-built man with big, meaty hands and a very dry sense of humour. The atmosphere in this safe house was a little bit different since he was considered a suspect in the fraud case – not to mention, at least in Booth's book, a suspect in the disappearance of Karen Adams.

"Cozy," Booth observed, noting the unobtrusive bars on the windows and the security cameras everywhere. "You must feel right at home."

The three Marshals assigned to the case stood one in each doorway, facing outwards. Callum himself was seated in a beat-up recliner in the back room with one ankle resting on his opposite knee. "Oh, _visitors_," he said lazily. "You'll forgive me if I don't get up."

Booth ignored him, flashing his badge. "Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI. This is my partner, Dr. Brennan. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the disappearance of Karen Adams."

"You and everyone else in the country. Who's the kid?"

Brennan bristled, but quelled the impulse to let her annoyance seep through into her voice. "This is my assistant, Zach Addy."

"If you killed Karen Adams, he'll find a way to prove it," Booth promised. Temperance was tempted to smile at his confidence in Zach's abilities, but that would have ruined the sinister effect of the words.

Callum's face went white and his icy demeanour slipped away. His foot slid to the floor. "Karen's dead?"

"We don't have a body," Brennan put in, half-scowling at Booth. Besides, there was every reason to suspect Karen had been across the border in Windsor the day after her disappearance – not that she couldn't have been under direct threat there, too, but then why had Allison Jensen turned up dead in Karen's clothes? "There is a chance she's still alive."

Callum sat forward and put his head in his hands. "I don't know where she is, okay? If I knew, I would tell you. Then you could get her away from whoever took her away."

"You believe she was kidnapped?" Brennan asked interestedly.

"Bones, I'll handle this," Booth interrupted. "You think she was kidnapped? By whom?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. So did Callum. "Who do you think? Karen made friends, not enemies. The only people who could have wanted her are ComTech's stooges."

"And you," Booth pointed out. "You're a suspect in the fraud case, which makes you a suspect in _this_ case. Here's what I think: I think you took that money, and Karen found out about it. And as soon as you figured out where the Marshals were hiding her and sent her a little warning, she bolted, or you let her go – it doesn't really matter. If she doesn't testify, there's no case against ComTech, which means you're off the hook. That's what we here at the FBI call 'motive.'"

"Did you even read your case notes?" Callum spat, raising his pant leg. "I can't _leave_, genius – I'm radio collared like a damn animal. One step off of this property and the po po sweep in like a herd of Swiffer dusters." His jaw set. "Anyway, Karen knows I'm innocent. Not that I wouldn't steal ten million dollars from the government if I thought I could get away with it – I'm just not that clever."

"Zach, check that collar." Brennan shot Booth a curious look. "Just to make sure it hasn't been tampered with," Booth placated. "This guy's an engineer; he could probably rig it if he wanted to."

"I'm flattered," Brad said dryly, and stuck his leg out for Zach to examine. "You're right, I could probably rig it. And if I _did_, I would probably be clever enough to change it back."

"It hasn't been touched," Zach announced, forestalling further discussion.

Needless to say, that didn't make Booth too happy. "All that means is that he has an accomplice."

"I'm not allowed to have visitors," Callum pointed out. "Or phone calls, or email, and one of the suit monkeys reads and censors any letters I get or send. I wish you were right, man, but I'm innocent. On all counts."

Sighing, Booth pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Brennan felt a little sorry for him, even though she didn't think Brad was guilty. He looked like he hadn't slept well since Vegas. "Alright, let's pretend I believe you – " Brennan and Zach exchanged glances – "Say Karen was abducted from the safe house. If she could get away from her captors, where would she go?"

Callum considered for a moment. "It's hard to say. If she could get hold of a fake passport, she might try Europe. She has some relatives there, and she'd blend right in. No passport, maybe a university town. She'd try to get another job teaching eventually, even if she had to go to teacher's college again. Or she might've gone east – she always liked the east coast."

"Would she cross the border back into Canada?"

"If she thought she could do it without tipping anyone off that that's what she was doing – then yeah. Definitely."

The girl was like a rabbit gone to ground, Brennan thought. She could pop up anywhere, or not at all. "Is it possible that she simply ran away?"

Callum frowned. "Why would she do that? She knew she was in custody for her own good--"

A shrill ringing cut him off, and she reached for her cell phone. "Brennan."

It was Hodgins. "Dr. Brennan, we've identified the residue Zach found on the security panel. It's associated with a specific type of latex products."

"Good work, Hodgins. Surgical gloves?"

"Uh, actually," Angela's voice piped in, "No. Two more guesses, sweetie."

"You're speaking with the boyfriend now, right?" Hodgins said. "Ask him what kind of condoms they use."

"Are you serious?" They were serious. Well, there was only one thing for it. "Mr. Callum, when you and Karen had sex, was there a particular brand of condoms you preferred?"

Booth and Zach turned to her with identical expressions of incredulity.

Callum reached into his wallet and tossed a packet in her direction. "Boy scout," he shrugged.

Brennan caught it and read the label to Hodgins. "That's it," he confirmed. "That's what was on the keypad."

Thanking him, she hung up. Briefly, she considered confiscating the condom as evidence. It would make Booth uncomfortable and cause amusing stammers in Zach. Instead, she threw the packet back at Callum. A reluctant and very tentative theory formed in her head. "Mr. Callum, just a few more questions..."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

DUE TO some confusion on my part about which areas of MI are urban and which aren't, I am throwing around the location of Zach's actual house a bit. Why? Well... you'll see.

As always, mucho thanks to ani8/Katie on LJ for beta reading.

"I don't get it," Booth said as they were leaving, half-jogging to keep up with Bones. "What's with the condom?"

Brennan paused by the door of the SUV. "Agent Booth, I knew you were Catholic, but I didn't realize you took Church doctrine so seriously. A condom is a prophylactic used by non-Catholics to prevent pregnancy and the spread of sexually transmitted diseases-"

There was no way she actually thought he needed to hear this definition. "Are you making fun of me?"

Her expression remained perfectly serious, but there was a telling glint in her eye. "Past experience does suggest-"

"Past experience!" He knew she was referring to Parker, but he couldn't help the outburst, or hide the fact that he wanted to laugh. Mentally, he began plotting revenge for later. "I've never slept with you before; although I'm sure we can arrange something-"

She smacked him in the chest. "In your dreams," she teased, hopping in.

A little too close to the mark, he admitted to himself finally. "Smartass," he grumbled, tearing his eyes away. He closed the door.

A few seconds later Zach cleared the Marshals' security check and joined them.

"No concealed personal messages of any kind? No souvenirs? Good, let's get the hell out of here." He took the ramp to the I-75. "Hey boy wonder, what exit do I take to get back to your place?"

After a moment of silence, he checked the rear-view mirror. "Zach? Are you still with us?"

Zach looked pretty uncomfortable. His cheeks were pink and he was staring into his lap. He mumbled something that Booth didn't quite catch.

"Speak up, kid." What the hell was wrong with him? Was he sick?

"Exit 69," he said just loud enough to be heard. "It's about five miles from here."

Fighting the urge to giggle like an eleven-year-old, Booth switched lanes. Someday someone would have to teach Zach how to be an adult about sex. That day was not today and that someone was _definitely_ (in his mind Booth underlined this twice) not him.

Temperance, he knew, would have said that he was uncomfortable talking about sex, but that wasn't quite it. It was only certain _situations _involving sex that he was uncomfortable with, and even then, only around certain people.

For example, he didn't make any real effort to hide a night of casual sex. Maybe from Bones, a little, but only because she'd try to analyze it "anthropologically" and he wasn't interested in her assumption that he was just like everyone else.

He also didn't have a problem stating when he was in a meaningful relationship. He might not exactly discuss the more salient details (and they were often salient), but Booth wasn't much of one for shop talk.

It seemed to be the fuzzy places between sex and love that made him uncomfortable. Maybe he just didn't like that they wouldn't fit into a neat little box and maybe he felt stupid for being unable to decipher which relationship meant what; he wasn't quite sure. Relationships like he'd had with Cam and Rebecca – he didn't quite understand yet what they meant, but he had a sneaking suspicion.

He glanced at Bones. "Did you bring your camera?"

When she saw sign for the exit even Bones had to crack a smile. "Big Beaver Road?"

In the back seat, Zach slunk down a little lower. "Head East."

Several convoluted turns later Booth resolved never again to ask directions from someone who didn't drive. "Big Beaver Road," he grumbled. "We should've been on the I-96!"

Half an hour later they arrived at the Addy home. "Next time you should just read the damn instruction manual," Brennan told him without opening her eyes. Booth glared at the navigation system. "Luddite. See you tomorrow, Zach."

Zach mumbled a half-hearted goodbye and went into the house.

"That was not my fault," Booth protested, putting the car in gear.

"You asked him for directions," Bones pointed out. "If you wanted accuracy, you should've bought a map, or at least consulted the navigation console."

"If you're so smart, why didn't you suggest that sooner?" he grumped.

"I didn't want to emasculate you in front of Zach."

Scowling, he backed out of the driveway. Bones was smirking at him; he could see it from the corner of his eye. "You know, someday you are going to need a favour, and you know what I'm going to do, Bones? I'm going to say no."

She smiled at him, expression dry. "I'll take my chances."

Yeah, he knew he was bluffing, too.

Forty-five minutes later Booth pulled up to ComTech Industries and put the car in park. "You ready, Bones?"

She smiled at him a little cheekily. "I was born ready."

His mouth dropped open a little. "Bones! Have you been watching _movies?_"

"Life imitates art," she quipped, stepping out and slamming the door. "Zach and Hodgins were re-enacting a scene from Slice."

Twitching, Booth shut his own door. "That's Blade, Bones. Blade, not Slice." Just when he thought she was desquintifying, just a little bit, she went and proved him wrong. It was kind of endearing, though. "Let's do this."

Inside, he flashed his badge at the receptionist. "We're looking for Daniel Klagenfurt. Is he in?"

Flustered, the receptionist fumbled with the phone. "Of course. I'll let him know you're on your way up."

They stepped into the elevator and Brennan pushed the button for the forty-second floor. Bones leaned closer and spoke in a low voice – a good call; there was a good chance the elevator was bugged. "Do you think he did it? Do you think he ordered Karen Adams killed, abducted?"

Booth shrugged, trying not to be distracted by the way she was running her hands up and down her legs. He knew it was to muffle the sound of their voices. "He's certainly got the motive, but it's early to say. I'll have to meet him in person before I have any kind of sense about whether he's guilty."

Bones was quiet for a few seconds, except for the rubbing. "What if he did try to have her killed and he doesn't realize they got the wrong girl?"

"Allison could have drunk the poison meant for Karen," Booth conceded. In spite of the need for secrecy, he wished she would take just a _teensy_ step backwards. "And from a distance, they do look similar. If the killer was far enough away..." He paused. "What're you thinking?"

She looked a little uncomfortable. Maybe he wasn't the only one ill at ease with their physical proximity. He could practically feel the heat of her body. "I... I'm struggling with the moral aspect, but what if we let him believe what he wants?"

"You mean not identify the body as Allison Jensen's," he said. She winced. "Bones, that is not the same thing as faking evidence to make another party look guilty. It's a standard questioning technique."

"So, not entrapment?" God, when she looked up at him like that, he just wanted to...

He forced a smile past his sudden paralysis. "Just run-of-the-mill underhandedness. You'd have made an okay cop, Temperance." _Except for the gun thing_, he added only in the privacy of his own mind. He didn't want to get his ass kicked, after all.

After a small eternity, the elevator doors opened. Booth let out a sigh of relief. "Let's go."

"Mr. Klagenfurt, Special Agent Booth. This is my partner, Temperance Brennan. We'd like to ask you a few questions about Karen Adams."

Klagenfurt was a tall, muscular man with a shock of yellow-gold hair and a thick German accent. "Of course ComTech Industries denies all knowing of the girl's murder," he said easily.

_Yeah right,_ Booth thought darkly. _So it's a murder then after all, is it?_ "Mr. Klagenfurt, as you are probably aware, the FBI is investigating the disappearance of a key witness in the federal tax fraud case against you. Is there anyone here at the company besides Brad Callum who knew Miss Adams personally?"

Brad hadn't thought so, but it would be worth finding out who the bigwigs were willing to pin things on.

"Some of the girls in the accounting department. But as I say, we know nothing about this... disappearance."

"You have to admit," Brennan put in, "It doesn't look good for you. The woman who was the main witness against you going missing just weeks before the case goes to trial... That's motive for murder."

"Case!" Klagenfurt spat. "There is no case. You will see this at the trial. I am innocent, Herr Booth. The girl's death is an unfortunate coincidence. That is all."

Booth's retort died on his lips as Brennan's cell phone alarm rang. He started when she reached into her pocket as if to answer her phone – he knew it wasn't ringing – but quickly masked his surprise. _We're partners_, he reminded himself. On the same side. Besides, Bones was a smart woman. He'd have to trust her.

"Brennan." She pressed the phone closer to her ear. "Hodgins, what do you mean, it's not Karen? She was wearing her clothes! Yes, I know someone erased her medical records... too short? You're sure?" A theatrical pause. Booth was almost reminded of Temperance play-acting at Roxie, except without the tempting little black dress and fuck-me heels and with a good deal of genuine Bones thrown in instead. It was a tough call to say which one held more allure. "Okay. We'll have to look for a crime scene. Thanks, Hodgins. Keep me posted."

Bones flipped the phone shut towards her, probably so Klagenfurt wouldn't see the display panel on the phone hadn't lit up. By the looks of him, he wasn't going to be noticing much for a while. Booth had watched carefully as the colour drained steadily from his face and his knuckles clamped down hard on the chair in front of him. Even so, his expression remained neutral.

Brennan gave him a look. "Sorry, Booth, he's not your guy. We've been barking at the wrong tree."

"Up," Booth corrected with a barely suppressed smile. Maybe he knew which side of Bones he preferred, after all. "That's up the wrong tree. Mr. Klagenfurt, thank you for your time. We'll see ourselves out."

Booth was on his own mobile as soon as they left the building. "I want those monitored calls traced, you got that? All of them. I don't care if they're made from the top floor or the payphone outside. Tell McNeil he's under suspicion of terrorism if you have to. Of course I don't have any proof, that's the beauty of having a fanatic president."

Hanging up, he slung his arm around Brennan's shoulder. "Ah, Bones," he sighed, steering her towards the car, "I think I love you."

She frowned at him and squirmed away from his grasp, just as he'd known she would. "That's very flattering, Booth, but I think it's more a response to this particular situation than me in general. Can you really track all outgoing calls for the whole building?"

He shrugged, a little perplexed himself at the way the words had just rolled off of his tongue. He did his best to follow Bones' lead in dismissing them – at least she hadn't told him love was a chemical imbalance in his brain this time. "I can try. Come on, we've got to get back to district to set someone on Klagenfurt's tail. I want someone on this guy like Hodgins on a government conspiracy theory."

"We're not going after him ourselves?" She sounded disappointed.

Booth looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. "Guys like Klagenfurt don't get their hands dirty. If he's involved with Allison Jensen's death, it's through an intermediary. In the meantime..."

"We need to find Karen Adams," Bones finished. "Before it's too late."


	12. Chapter 12

Red Fish, Blue Fish

Chapter Twelve

Notes: My apologies for the long delay. Real life does occasionally influence my posting habits, much as I would like to deny it. If you're feeling particularly thankful you can go give Katie/ani8 a hug for prodding me until I got my arse in gear, then editing the results. She could probably use the well-wishes!

Standard disclaimers apply.

**RFBF**

Booth pulled into an empty parking spot at Casino Windsor a few hours later. It was too dark to conduct the rest of their investigation tonight, even if they did try to co-opt one or two of the casino's impressive flood lights.

"Do you think we'll find anything?" he asked, grabbing the two small suitcases from the back of the rental.

Bones shrugged and took off her sunglasses. "It's hard to tell. The fact that the body was buried in a construction site isn't going to help. Maybe if we pinpoint where Allison was poisoned..."

"I hate wild goose chases," he sighed. "Alright, let's go. The sooner we get to sleep the sooner we can catch the bad guy."

"We're staying here? I thought you FBI guys were on a tight living allowance." He heard what she wasn't saying: _You can't stay here, it's not good for you_, and was simultaneously impressed that she hadn't said it aloud, and annoyed that she thought he couldn't handle himself.

Resisting the urge to give in to either compulsion, Booth merely grinned and increased his pace towards the sky bridge. "We are. You, however, get whatever you want. So, you get the room, and I will buy you breakfast."

"Why do I feel like I'm being conned?"

Within twenty minutes they were checked in and equipped with electronic pass-keys and a few dollars' worth of complimentary slot tokens. Bones deposited them in a slot machine on the way up to the room, not even bothering to pull the lever.

Booth had to wonder about that. Temperance Brennan did everything for a reason. "Bones? Why did you throw them away?"

"I didn't," she answered, sliding her passkey into the lock. The light flashed green and she pushed the door open. "I was merely removing temptation."

His preoccupation with her odd actions dissipated when he saw the room – rooms, rather, a fairly luxurious suite for such a little nowhere city. "Nice place," he conceded, whistling through his teeth at the sizeable living room and well-appointed modern kitchen. "I obviously made the wrong career choice."

"You're very good at your job," Brennan said offhandedly, disappearing through a door to their left. Clearly she had misinterpreted what he'd said.

"Yeah, Bones, thanks." Assuming he was to sleep on the couch, he stashed his duffel under the modern coffee table and toed off his shoes. "Nice digs."

"Your room is through that door," Bones' disembodied voice notified him. "Beside the bathroom."

_She** does **love me, _Booth thought to himself dryly, picking up his bag. Talk about removing temptation.

**RFBF**

"You see anything?" Booth asked, shining one of Brennan's fancy flash light things over the disturbed ground of the casino expansion project.

She frowned, shaking her head. "The crime scene has been disturbed. The police, the construction workers, probably even the hotel manager have been walking all over this spot for a week. Not to mention reporters and curious teenagers," she added, pointing out the distinctive marks made by a television camera trolley. "There's nothing here, and even if there were, the chances that it would stand up in court are negligible." She flicked off her own light. "We're wasting our time."

He grimaced. "I thought you might say that." He handed her back the flash light. "That leaves us with only one good lead."

Bones nodded, zipping up her equipment bag. "We have to find the place where Allison Jensen was poisoned."

_Right_. The only question was, "How?"

Brennan shrugged, shouldering her bag and leading him back towards the main entrance of the hotel. "Assuming Karen and Allison were drinking, they can't have gone far. Karen wouldn't have wanted to get a cab with Allison in that condition, so they must have walked from wherever the poisoning took place."

"And we know that Allison had been drinking Guinness," Booth added, cluing in.

"Mixed with Baileys and whiskey," Bones added with a vaguely nauseated expression.

"What?"

"Hodgins messaged me this morning," she explained, entering the door he held for her. "He said the variations in the structure of the stout she'd been drinking were the probable result of the alcohol being mixed prior to consumption. He's not one hundred percent certain, but it's something to go on."

Booth whistled. "Irish car bombs. Impressive."

"What?"

"Irish car bombs. Come on, Bones, you went to college! You never did a car bomb?"

"I think we've established that my social life has always been somewhat atypical." She rolled her eyes at him. "At least we have someplace to start."

Eventually they reached the front desk. The woman sitting behind it looked up expectantly. "Can I help you?"

Figuring that flashing his badge would probably be unnecessary, Booth just turned on the charm smile instead. "I hope so. This beautiful young woman missed out on some key college experiences. We're trying to make up for them. Is there anywhere around here that sells Irish car bombs?"

The woman – Peggy, by her nametag – smiled. "You want Paddy O's," she told them cheerfully. "They're down on Pitt Street, about a five minute walk. They should be opening for lunch in about an hour."

"And what would you recommend for lunch?"

"Sweet potato fries," Peggy said, almost in a swoon. "With roasted red pepper mayonnaise. The Guinness steak and mushroom pie is delicious, but the sweet potato fries are to die for."

_Pun intended?_ Booth wondered, opening his mouth to reply.

"Thank you," Bones cut in, jabbing him in the side hard enough to disrupt the smile. "You've been very helpful."

"Of course," she chirped, ignoring Booth's pained exhalation completely except for a covert smile. "Have a nice day!"

**RFBF**

"What are we looking for, again?" Brennan asked, looking up at the pub signs down Pitt Street. "Paddy O's?"

"Paddy O'what?" Booth grumbled aloud. They'd been up and down both sides of the street with no luck whatsoever. "Do you think the receptionist was delusional?"

Brennan pushed open the door to one of the pubs, Ryan's, clearly intent on asking for directions. "She seemed lucid. Maybe someone in here will be able to help us."

The dining room was moderately full, tastefully decorated in with dark wood tables and chairs. The bar was brightly polished, proudly displaying too many different kinds of beer on tap to count. A black-clad server greeted them on their way in. "Welcome to Ryan's. Can I get you a table?"

"Actually, we're looking for a place called Paddy O's," Bones said. "Our hotel receptionist said it was on Pitt Street, but we haven't been able to find it."

The server smiled. "You've come to the right place. The manager changed the signs, hoping to attract a more diverse clientele, but all of the regulars still call us by our old name. Table for two?"

"Please."

When they had been seated and the server had taken their drink orders, Booth leaned across the table. "Finding anything in this place is going to be impossible." There were so many nooks and crannies there was no way they could search through them all.

"Maybe they have security cameras," Bones suggested, studying the beer menu. "Besides, what about the human element? We could find out who was working and see if they remember anything unusual."

If she noticed the sudden role reversal there – he concerned about scientific evidence, she suggesting an interview-based approach – she didn't acknowledge it. Booth had to smile a little at how far they'd come. "So what're you having?"

A short time later their food arrived, and they spent the next few minutes in comparative silence... until Booth attempted to steal one of Bones' sweet potato chips. She smacked his hand with the back of her fork.

"They're that good, huh?"

"Better," she confirmed, dipping one liberally in the red pepper mayo.

"You're not going to let me try one?"

She crunched down on the fry, an expression of pure bliss crossing her face. "You're not going to be able to stop at one."

Caught off-balance by the way those words and that expression affected him; Booth was forced to admit to himself that she was probably right. That didn't stop him from sneaking a fry when she was looking the other way.

_Damn_. Those were good fries. He hid a few behind his steak and mushroom pie.

When the waitress came to check on them, the sweet potato chips had completely disappeared, along with just about everything else. Booth settled the bill, then flashed his badge and explained the primary reason behind their visit. The young woman went to find the manager, and Bones excused herself to look around the premises for what Booth termed, in the privacy of his own head, Clues.

"Agent Booth." The woman he assumed to be the daytime manager approached the table, followed by a tall oriental gentleman. "I'm Nancy Ryan; this is our usual weekend bouncer, Chris Yang. I understand you have a few questions you'd like to ask us?"

He nodded, rising and shaking each of their hands in turn. Then he took the printout Angela had given him from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. "Do you recognize these two young women?"

Nancy shook her head, but Yang pulled the photograph closer. "I recognize them," he confirmed. "They're regulars in the summer, usually. I only saw them a few times this year. What's this about?"

Booth tucked the picture away. "The details of the investigation are still classified, but I can tell you that we are investigating their disappearance. We believe this is the last place they may have been seen. Do you know who was working that night?"

"I'll check my records," Nancy nodded. "It will just take a moment."

"I appreciate it," Booth told her. "Do you happen to keep video surveillance tapes at all?"

"Just at the front doors," Yang answered. "What day are you looking for?"

"July 30th," Booth told him. "Everyone who came in and everyone who went out."

The young man nodded. "I'll be right back."

At just that moment, Bones popped back into the room. "Guess what I found."

He knew there was a reason he'd brought her along. "A Clue?!"


End file.
